


Andraste's Chevalier

by Gallekryde



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Games - Fandom, Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crossover, F/M, Fantasy, Original Character(s), Paladins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 100,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallekryde/pseuds/Gallekryde
Summary: An Alliance Paladin on his last patrol in the Badlands finds himself in the world of Thedas, years before the chaos of the Fifth Blight. His only companion in this strange world is an ancient Titan lorekeeper. While trying to find their way home they are embroiled in the political turmoil of Ferelden and will change the course of history forever... (OC, Soft-LITRPG)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Eratus Riverwood and at the moment I was kneeling over a ledge. I was acutely aware of how high I was. It wasn’t any physical threat of course, so long as I could break the seal on the magically attuned feather I carried. Once broken, I would fall at the rate of a feather and land roughly with the force of one.

There were several other items on my person. Standard-issue Alliance plate armor. By virtue of being a Knight-Lieutenant, mine was made of mithril versus the usual steel. It made it lighter, durable, and less prone to being warped by sudden pressure which made it far more durable against warhammers and axes. Tied to my back was a simple shield, in a convex shape designed to redirect the force of blows away from the wearer, and a sword. On the hilt was emblazoned the iron fist of the Knights of the Silver Hand. The Holy order that all paladins to include myself were aligned to.

It was also mid-day in the middle of summer. Something that I was very physically aware of at that moment. Drops of sweat slithered down the confines of my armor. The sun’s rays reflected off my visor, blinding me every time I moved. There was no wind to ease my suffering atop the plateau where I stood. Heat in and of itself was unfortunately ailment that the holy magic wielded by Paladins could not cure. I let out a soft sigh of frustration. I was vaguely aware this was contrary to the blind stoicism that the Knight’s Academy attempted to brand into me. A technique done through years and years of thoughtless physical drills and mind-numbing ceremonies. How my old instructor would have blanched at this sign of weakness. Oh well. I guess the last three years of warfare did a lot to wear away those old markings, albeit with scars of their own.

I scanned the horizon again. It was mostly barren, cracked, baked yellow land for as far as the eye could see. The only notable features were the occasional buzzards that flew by, pillars of rock that sprouted out of the ground, and the mountain ranges separating the “good” lands such as Loch Modan, Dun Morogh, and the Kingdoms of the Alliance from the “bad” lands which is where I was dutifully on patrol. For the Alliance. I guess.

Satisfied that nothing had changed since the fifteenth or was it sixteenth time I looked, I turned around towards my patrol partner.

“Bluebeard, how are you not sweating in this heat?” I asked.

“Dwarven constitution lad. Why you ask. Is the weather bothering yeh?” he replied.

I narrowed my brows. The dwarf was sitting in the shade under a rock. A restful smirk on his face. He was in a comfortable position with his boots perched up on a small boulder. His mithril-mail shirt was undone, exposing a massive beer belly. His hands were running through the massive blue beard (dyed hair being permissible for dwarves and gnomes in accordance with Alliance regulations).

“Dwarven-constitution my asshole,” I shot back.

“Now, now, that ain’t how a Knight-Errant should be talking now ain’t he? Didn’t they teach yeh all those curtsies and corstoms in that fancy school for little whelpings?” he replied.

“It is customs and courtesies Bluebeard,” I said. I didn’t broach the topic of the knight’s academy. I learned years ago not to try and debate the merits of formal education with someone who had 150 years of life-experience on me. Also didn’t help that four years later, I had a hard time convincing myself there were a whole lot of merit either. To this day, I’m still debating what one of the instructors said about the positive correlation between memorizing the fifth tenant of the will of the Light and actual combat. Certainly, didn’t help the first time I stared down a growling axe-wielding 7 foot tall green-skinned savage looking to turn my scalp into a belt ornament, or when the friendly-looking old man that always sat by the well suddenly lunge at you with a shiv, screaming “For Alterac!”

I turned around. My metal knee-guard knocked free a rock which tumbled down the cliff-side. Gradually it disappeared into a pinprick and out of sight. I didn’t even hear it land.

“Careful, laddy. I don’t think there is a whole lot we can do if you go tumbling down the rockside. I don’t think I have any of them feathers to spare,” Bluebeard called out.

Another trickle of sweat simpered down my eye. I blinked and realized the moment the irritation set in that it collected several grains of sand on the way down.

“Damn it,” I muttered. I undid the clasps on my helmet and one of my gauntlets. I tried to rub out the grains of sand in my eyelash. The sudden breeze was refreshing and my hair pillowed out. A reminder that I was horribly out of regulations as far as grooming standards and would need a haircut once the patrol ended. 

“Got something in your eye Errant?” Bluebeard asked. It was another one of his friendly jabs. The proper rank was Knight-Errant.

“Yea…” I said trying to rub the irritation out while only making it worse.

“Hey! Come over here, you’re gonna end up blind, you should do that thing those light-wielders can d-,” he started but snapped shut. “Sorry forgot you didn’t like being reminded.”

“It is okay,” I replied. About a year ago I lost the ability to heal. I had a firm understanding of the events surrounding that handicap and didn’t like being reminded of it. My commanding officer at the time didn’t seem understanding either. I couldn’t blame him. Paladins were expected foremost to be the front-line healers. Not as effective but durable enough to not get chopped up like our priestly brethren. Granted we were able to do more than just heal but the point didn’t make it past my commanding officer who had me transferred out. Which is how I ended up with my current group.

“Here I got just the thing,” Bluebeard said and began ruffling through one of his several knapsacks.

I stood up, walked over, and sat next to him in the shade. He offered me a clean silk trauma bandage.

“Thanks,” I replied. I took the bandage and began to rub the irritation away.

“No problem. Now just relax in the shade. You know very well that I have an eye on things,” he said pointing to his eye, which flashed green. It was a hunter’s spell known as **Eyes of the Beast**. Somewhere in the far distance was Bluebeard’s hawk, and it was observing everything that was happening within our designated area of interest.

I nodded and joined him in the shade.

“Well, it is nice to have nothing happen on our last patrol together,” I said.

“Heh. Got your taste for fighting sated lad?” Bluebeard replied and sat down next to me.

“I don’t think I ever had a taste for it in the first place,” I said using the silk bandage to wipe off the sweat on my face.

“Well then I daresay you learned something. In 125 years, I can tell you fighting is all I’ve ever done and it ain’t pretty. Never has been, never will be. Folk will sing songs, write books, and do all sorts of things praising it, but that just hides the rot and stink. Three dwarves with their heads up their arses decide they don’t want to share. They start fightin. Fightin gets worse and next thing you know one of them summons a fire devil from hell itself that turns half the kingdom into charcoal,” he said.

“That was quite the apt description of the War of the Three Hammers Bluebeard,” I said.

“Bah. More like the War of the Three Bumbling Fools as it should be known,” he replied.

I had read about the war in question. The largest dwarven civil war in history. Estimated casualties were that it wiped out a quarter of the dwarven population and half the Dark Iron Kingdom. It also resulted in the summoning of the fire elemental “Ragnaros” who subsequently enslaved the Dark Iron Kingdom and caused the eruption of Blackrock mountain turning entire farmlands into soot and ash. The war was so devastating nobody remembers why it started in the first place. 

“Fools they were indeed Bluebeard,” I said wistfully.

The dwarf shuffled through his knapsack again. He whipped out a pipe and made a few Hunter gestures. It was a lesser version of a spell they called **Flare**. A small spark flashed and lit the pipe. He made a few puffs to feed the flame before taking a long breath and letting loose a smoke ring.

“You want a pinch?” Bluebeard asked, offering me the pipe.

I raised my hand in a polite decline. “No thanks. I can’t stand the smell of the stuff. Reminds me of the laborers back home.”

“Eh suit yourself,” the dwarf shrugged and took another hit of the pipe.

“Tell me, why on earth are you going back to that little cubbyhole you call Northshire?”

“Weather is nice. People are friendly. Food is decent. It is quiet too and I have to help my aunt with her shop.

Bluebeard coughed, “Lad that right there sounds as dull as a sword that’s been sitting in the rain too long. There ain’t nothing over there. The only humans I know who talk like that are the old, and I’d say its all because they are about to die soon so they ain’t have much to look forward to. You ain’t planning on dying anytime soon are you lad?” he asked.

“Absolutely not!” I exclaimed.

“Well then you should live a little! You’re young and I didn’t see you piss away coin like every other two-bit soldier out there. Why not go to the city. You’re good with words so you should easily be able to find a decent job there. You could be a courier like my old cousin. Fly around. See things,” he said.

“Look I’m sure there are plenty of people out there. But I can tell you that the last four years have convinced me that there is great joy to be found in a peaceful life. Besides my aunt needs help running the shop. She says it is doing well in the letters but I know how busy it can get at times,” I replied.

“Bah, I can tell you that within a month you’ll be itching to get out. Now I never met your aunt but she is a grown woman and can handle herself. Why, even her words prove that she is doing fine on her own. Are you trying to make a liar out of your Aunt? She is probably more worried about you finding some nice lady to shag with. Which brings me to the next point. You’ve seen Lady Shadowmere and her entourage back at camp eh?”

I did indeed know, and so probably did every man, dwarf, elf, and quite possibly gnome in our encampment. Lady Shadowmere was the head human mage for the region. What was special about her was her unnaturally striking beauty, almost to the level of female elves. It wasn’t simply due to a lack of female companionship. There was plenty of that in the traveling merchant caravans that stopped by, knowing where the demand would be highest. There was however definitely some magical augmentation that occurred, not that anyone cared about such a taboo. Her personality was incredibly sweet. Rumors were abound that there were several fights that among the soldiers and even officers in her name.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know what I mean. Now I’ve got me own reservations about abusing our gifts for looks but you have to admit she is one fine dame. That being said, I hear all mages nowadays tweak their looks, and that a new mage college just opened in Stormwind. I’m just saying you ain’t gonna find something like that anywhere else besides the city.”

“Look Bluebeard… Lady Shadowmere is well, she is an attractive lady.” Attractive was by far an understatement to describe her and even I had to admit that. “She just isn’t my type. Besides I have Katrina waiting for me ba-,”

“Katrina? You mean that rich farmer’s whelp you haven’t talked to in seven years? You’d best get over her. By now she’d already tied the knot with another lad that her father had arranged,” Bluebeard balked.

“I know she is waiting for me Bluebeard,” I replied

“Lad, I’ve lived long enough and fought enough soldiers to see the same story unfold. Especially for you humans. Boy leaves girl. Boy fights in some forsaken conflict for half a decade. Boy comes home. Boy finds out girl married another lad, one that happened to be around while he was gone fighting. Boy gets heartbroken and drowns his sorrows in spirits till he runs out of money and goes fighting again,” Bluebeard said.

“Bluebeard sh-. Well she is different…Faithful. And I know it,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Faithful!? You haven’t even gotten engaged or married her before joining, so what does she got to be faithful to? So be it lad, but don’t come crying to me if its true. Just remember, when you come home to find another rooster in your den that you shoulda listened to old Bluebeard.”

“I promise you I-,” our argument was cut off as Bluebeard suddenly held up his hand. His right eye flared green and his expression turned dark. The skin on my back crawled up and the tension in the air became palpable.

The only times Bluebeard got serious was when something was about to go bad or something had already gone bad.

“Is something out there?” I asked.

“Yep. I see-em alright. No good. That’s a lot too. Sorry lad, it looks like your last patrol won’t go so quietly. We got orcs. A lot of em.”


	2. The Meeting

“Singlepipe.”

“Here Captain,” said the gnome before climbing a boulder and taking a seat. He whipped out a dagger and began to play with it.

“Sunwaker.”

“Present,” said the elf. He remained standing with a brightly colored staff planted into the baked ground.

“Riverwood.”

“Reporting in sir,” I said then took out a parchment book and pen. One of my additional duties was the team’s scribe. I was supposed to write down the goings of each meeting so that Captain Falmore could write official reports at the end of the day.

“Bluebea-Bluebeard, why do you have a wand,” Knight-Captain Elric Falmore asked pointing at the wand latched on the dwarf’s belt.

“Well why not Cap’n? I can use it and it is always good to have more than one weapon on hand,” Bluebeard replied. For Bluebeard there could never be one-too many weapons. In addition to the wand, he had a rifle and a crossbow slung over his back, two axes tied behind his shoulder, an officer’s saber on his belt I was pretty sure he picked up back in Alterac Valley, and four daggers sheathed next to his legs. I wasn’t sure how he managed to move with all that weight but he somehow did.

“Nevermind,” Captain Falmore sighed. One learned to never argue with a dwarf with a 150 years of life experience about having one too many weapons.

“We have everyone, Bluebeard please relay your findings,” he asked and removed his helmet. Captain Falmore was intimidating enough with a height towering over even elves. The addition of his scar-riddled face would be enough to send most new recruits running. A true warrior both in skill and stature but with a heart of gold. He was the only officer I knew that remembered the names of their subordinates, let alone their rank.

I made a quick note of it on parchment. “ _Captain Falmore did a count before the battle plan as usual_ ”.

While writing I checked the mana-gauge on my left wrist. It was a gnomish bracelet that had a bar that moved from left to right. Singlepipe customized it for me. It detected energy levels respect to our class. Warriors saw a red bar. Hunters and rogues had a yellow bar. Paladins, Priests, and Mages had blue bars. The scale marker for my blue bar indicated I was at 82%. 

“Yep, hold on,” Bluebeard said as his right eye flared green. He stared blankly out into the distance.

We stood for a few moments while Bluebeard used Eyes of the Beast.

“Yep confirmed. We got a fair amount. I count 10. 4 heavies…. all two-handers. 4 regs... looks like they got a hunter and 3 rogues, and 2 clothies…. can’t tell if they are non-combatants or mages. Heavies are hauling two wagons with them. Heading due north-east,” he said.

I scribbled down a summary of his words, but I couldn’t help feel the unease that crawled down my spine. These were orcs. The primary race of a coalition of other-worldly invaders named the Horde that had terrorized human, dwarven, gnomish, and elven countries for the last decade. We had endearingly categorized orcs into the following. Heavies were heavily armored. Typically warriors. Regs categorized both hunters and rogues. Clothies were non-combatants or…

“Wait scratch that, clothies are confirmed locks,” Bluebeard finally said.

Singlepipe stopped playing with his dagger. Sunwaker stood straighter.

Locks, short for warlocks. Orc spell-casters. Dangerous and extremely rare outside of their main strongholds.

“Are you certain?” Captain Falmore asked, a grim look on his face

“Yep. I had Fenstring fly a bit closer. Hah! They probably think the old bird is just a desert buzzard. But the clothies are definitely warlocks. They got staves, and they are glowing green. Ugh. Fenstring can smell the fel energy from here. I also got a good look at one of the wagons. Both are covered, but not completely. Whatever it is, it looks like a big green rock.”

“An infernal stone,” Magister Sunwaker said. “They are most certainly warlocks.”

“Infernals? Those big green flaming golems? I thought those stopped being used because they were too hard to control. Last reports of their use from the battle of Blackrock Mountain said after being summoned they squished equal amounts Alliance and Horde,” said Tinkerer Singlepipe.

“That is true. However, you are thinking only in terms of field battles. Infernals have typically been used in attacks against fortified settlements. The infernal stone this band possesses is one example. Traditionally, the Horde would launch them into walled towns and cities. They would pre-emptively put seals on them to unravel upon impact-

“Like a bomb?” Singlepipe interrupted.

The elf’s eyebrow jerked a bit at being interrupted. Him and the gnome typically got on each other’s nerves. It didn’t help that both of their races had radically different ideas on the uses of arcane energy. 

“Although ‘bomb’ is a gross simplification for the process known as an unraveling seal, it does fit the functional definition for these purposes. So yes a bomb,” he said. “The stone would release high amounts of fel energy upon impact. Worse the physical structure of it would reanimate into an infernal. The infernal would then go on a rampage and cause significant damage unless subdued.”

“Well, why are they trying to transport that thing out to nowhere? Ironforge is west and Stormwind is south,” Singlepipe asked.

“Recent events suggest otherwise. There was a camp brief that indicated that an orcish clan known as Dragonmaw has somehow eluded detection in the Wetlands. They must have laid low after the Horde’s defeat in the Second War. Recently they have started hit and run raids near Menethil Harbor, just north of here,” I said.

“Wait you actually listen to those?” the gnome asked.

“Someone has to,” I shrugged before jostling more notes down on Bluebeard’s findings.

“Riverwood is right. They are probably set to rendezvous with this “Dragonmaw Clan”. If those things get to Menethil Harbor, it will cause untold damage. This doesn’t bode well,” Captain Falmore said. “Sunwaker what else do you know about infernals?”

“Well, infernals are highly dangerous but at the moment they are probably sealed in a passive form. I don’t think they would be able to use them without a trigger. Such a trigger would require an intensely large amount of energy,” he said.

“So why don’t we just go over there and take them out?” Singlepipe said stabbing into the air with his dagger.

“Because everything I said has a degree of uncertainty. For all I know, those infernals might as well be active,” said the elf.

“Well, we have been through worse you know. It can’t be any dangerous than that band of orcs and their ice golem we faced down in Alterac. Or whatever that awful thing was that troll witchdoctor summoned in Arathi last summer,” said Singlepipe.

“And if you don’t recall, it was only a miracle that we lived through either situation. I would like to bring up that “thing” last summer ate you,” Sunwaker said.

“Ugh don’t remind me,” said Singlepipe and he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I had to toss out all my clothes from the smell.”

I felt bad for Singlepipe. The being in question resembled a massive tentacled slime the size of a small house. After being summoned, it picked him up and swallowed him whole. We thought Singlepipe was dead, until he cut his way out of its skin in the middle of the battle.

“And it was in part of your effort at giving it indigestion that we won. These infernals are more deadly,” said Sunwaker.

“Yea you’re right. There is probably a safer way to handle this,” said Singlepipe.

“Captain. I do believe there is a garrison of soldiers near Loch Modan. I believe it is more reasonable for them to deal with this threat,” said Sunwaker.

“Yep I agree,” said Singlepipe.

“Your call boss. I’m always up to clobber orcs but you’re the man on this one,” Bluebeard said. His eyes continued to look straight as he used Eyes of the Beast.

I stayed silent while furiously writing down the dialogue. I didn’t really want to pursue. This was supposed to be my last patrol and I would have preferred to ride it out quietly. Better to let someone else deal with this mess. Orders were orders though.

Captain Falmore rubbed his chin and looked thoughtfully at the ground.

“Alright. Here is the plan. Riverwood,” Captain Falmore said.

“Yes Captain?” I asked.

“Direct a letter to the main camp. Let them know of the threat and that the northern garrison should be notified. Oh… and additionally include a note that this orc entourage has been spotted following the main corridor of the central valley. Someone needs to get the southern patrols to do their jobs,” he said.

“Acknowledged Captain,” I replied. The letter was certainly going to raise how an entire band of orcs managed to make to cross nearly the entirety of the southern and central badlands undetected. I had a feeling several patrol teams were going to be asked unpleasant questions about their diligence in the near future. Well-deserved actually. I was very aware how the teams tended to half-ass their efforts.

“However, we need to keep track of the orc patrol and make updates as needed to their movement. Bluebeard keep eyes on the orcs. We are going to maintain a steady distance to them so I want everyone to meet back here with their mounts,” the Captain said before putting on his helmet.

We rose up and saluted as one before splitting off to carry our duties.

I wrapped up the piece of parchment and tied it with a piece of string. With my left hand I reached into my rear pouch and pulled out a multi-colored pebble. The pebble was called a hearthstone and came in pairs. The other part of this pair was currently at the main camp at the courier’s desk.

I focused mentally inward, into what could be the core of my existence or soul as the Church of the Holy Light called it. I reached deeper into the core to what could only be described as a sphere of light. This was the foundation of all who were born with the ability to be a priest or paladin. According to the Church, this sphere was a blessing and proof of our exalted nature.

It was also granted us the power to wield holy energy. I drew just a sliver from the sphere and called it to the hearthstone. White light flared from my hand and the pebble began to glow as the magical mechanism within activated.

I put the pebble on top of the scroll and waited. After a few moments, both the scroll and pebble vanished. Both would appear at the courier’s office soon.

“ _Eratus, na-all eithel_?” ( _Eratus, is everything well?_ ) asked Sunwaker.

The elf was sitting atop a two-legged bird with colorful feathers. The bird was known as a hawkstrider, and was the main mount of high elves as they deemed themselves. It squawked as it came to a halt next to my horse.

“ _All na-eithel Magistros, Im on-Tiw sui Capitan anir_ ,” ( _All is well Magister, I sent everything as the Captain requested_ ) I replied back in elvish with a light bow befitting elven custom befitting one addressing a Magister.

“ _Please, Alamere will do just fine_ ,” he replied while getting off his mount.

“ _No problem. The mannerisms my instructor instilled carry true. My hands have long since healed but the mind still remembers_ ,” I said. The instructor in question had a nasty attitude toward proper etiquette when using the high-elven tongue. He cast the spell on the trainees that would use arcane energy to carve the proper rank or prefix every time we misused it during verbal practice sessions. The hands healed quickly with the lessons firmly scarred into our minds.

Alamere merely nodded and began to brush the feathers on his hawkstrider. “ _I did get a chance to visit your academy once. It was long-ago when I was but a fledgling. Although, I disagree with the methodology I am impressed with the results. You speak our tongue well for a human._ ”

“ _The pleasure is all mine Magi- I mean Alamere_ ,” I replied and reached for the potion knapsack on the side of my horse.

“ _It is mutual. Not many high-elves still serve in the Alliance so it is rare to come across an opportunity to practice the language of Sunstrider_ ,” he said.

“ _It is a shame, we could certainly use more of you. Human mages can do some extraordinary things but I have only heard wonders of what elven magic is capable of. It was the elves after all who taught the first human magisters the arcane arts_ ,” I replied.

“ _Oh enough flattery. Believe me when I say your kind have accomplished more than enough. Although, it is strange coming from a paladin. I was rather surprised with your open-mindedness when it comes to the magical arts. Most of your kind tend to look down upon such practices_ ,” he said.

“ _Eh, it was probably because I’m not exactly your run-of-the-mill paladin_ ,” I said and began to rummage through my knapsack, keeping tabs on potions and ensuring the bottles were sealed and secure.

 _“I grew up in out in the country. Lots of locals were mages who were looking for a quiet life and they tilled the land and built houses like the rest of us. They did a lot of good with the powers they had. The way, I see it powers we have, whether we are a mage, rogue, hunter, warrior or even a paladin are a tool. It can be used for good, it can be used for evil_ ,” I said and moved on to another knapsack.

Alamere smirked,” _That was rather wise for someone so young._ ”

“ _Bah. Now who is the one flattering who Alamere?_ ” I said with a smile.

“ _That is Magister Alamere to you Eratus_ ,” he replied.

I laughed.

“ _Well, that is probably why I never made it far as a paladin. If you want to climb the ranks, best thing would be to become aide to some famous commander or become an Inquisitor. Figures I got moved to the front-lines_ ,” I sighed. “ _And here I was thinking my last patrol was going to be fairly peaceful. I suppose the trials and tribulations never stop do they_.”

“ _After 4 years of fighting, one should deserve some measure of peace_ ,” Alamere said.

“Hey enough jabbering about now,” squeaked Tinkerer Singlepipe from behind us.

The gnome was perched on a two-legged bird. It looked just like Alamere’s hawkstrider except that it was made purely of metal. It moved mechanically and awkwardly. It didn’t squawk like Alamere’s mount. However, it did growl and every time it did, smoke roared out of an exhaust pipe under it.

Alamere coughed as the smoke blew towards him. “Goodness, do tell me the elegance in such a device?” he asked.

“Don’t you mean ingenious?” he said moving the mechano-strider next to Alamere’s hawkstrider.

The hawkstrider squawked and stared at the metal bird, sizing it up like a competitor. The metal bird in response simply stood, billowing smoke every few moments.

“Anyhow, I do think that some things you pointy-eared folks design are worthwhile. The enchantments on my knives and guns are fading away. Do you mind redoing them?” he asked.

“Very well my dear gnome. I would also be averse to saying there isn’t at the least some instrumental use in gnomish contraptions. One of the lenses cracked on my goggles, would you mind repairing it? The sand is woefully terrible on my eyesight and seeing how we will be on the move soon, I think it is most prudent to get it repaired,” he said.

I chuckled and moved on to the other side of my mount letting the gnome and elf to go about their work. The two of them were like oil and water and came from two very different civilizations with very different views on arcane energy. In the end, they grew to respect each other.

“Everything going well here?” Captain Falmore asked from behind us. He was atop a large brown horse that was most certainly bred as a charger.

“Yes Captain,” we all replied in unison.

“Good, Eratus do you have anything to report from main camp?” he asked.

“Yes sir. I just sent the message. Just waiting on a response back,” I replied.

“Excellent job, and thank you for the update,” he said and then moved his charger next to mine.

He removed his helmet. His hair seemed even more unkempt and the fact that it had grown a bit long was even more apparent. There was some gray sprinkled in to his hair indicating his age. However, he had a warrior’s stamina and was likely going to remain stronger than most youths well until he was infirm.

“Hair looks a little long Captain,” I asked.

“Hah. If you’ve noticed then I guess it is about time I got it cut. Not that anyone else cares. You’ve seen how grooming standards are carried about in the main camp,” he replied.

“True,” I replied. I’d daresay most of the ranking men and women had hair as long as or longer than the Captain’s. I also did recall seeing one maverick officer sport a mustache, in the gnomish style.

“I have to say it is a blessing that it has been pretty quiet until now,” I said.

“A blessing! I haven’t thought about that in that way but that is one way to put it,” he said. “Too bad the blessing didn’t last till today. There is no reason for you to be out here right before heading home,” he said.

“I’m just fulfilling my duties sir,” I replied.

“Bah. From what I have seen you have done enough in the last three years. You should have taken the offer to be transferred to Camp Support and just rode it out till you could return home,” he said.

In retrospect it made the most sense to have transferred into camp logistics. The job revolved around bookkeeping for the most part. Most of my time would have been spent in the nice cooled tents at the main camp. I denied the offer though. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave my old team without a paladin,” I replied.

Captain Falmore coughed and shook his head. “We will be fine. And I don’t mean that in the sense that we don’t need your assistance,” he said.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a decent heart kid. It is a shame to lose you but you are better off doing something else other than whatever we are done here.”

“Now you are sounding a lot like Bluebeard Captain,” I said.

“Well as much as he is a pain in my ass the old dwarf knows a lot. This isn’t a kind profession and not one you can raise a family off of,” he said. His eyes glazed over after saying family. Circumstances told me it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about.

Speaking of Bluebeard, at that precise moment the gravelly voice of the dwarf came up from behind us. His mount was a short snow-ram. I had no idea how the poor creature was able to handle the heat of the badlands since it was naturally raised in the mountains. Not to mention’s Bluebeard’s bulk. Still is trotted one, completely oblivious to the weather or his master’s weight. His master however, seemed to be yelling something.

“Captain! Captain!” he said huffing and puffing. I paid close attention. Whatever it was had gotten Bluebeard to scramble.

“Go ahead,” Captain Falmore replied.

“I trailed the pathway of the orcs. There is a wreckage not too far off. There is a decent amount of smoke,” he said.

Singlepipe and Alamere stopped working and paid attention as well.

“I can’t verify it but it is definitely Alliance, my guess is human or dwarf from the shape. It has to be pretty recent,” Bluebeard continued.

Possible Civilian casualties in our area, and the orcs were involved. This wasn’t good.

“Light be damned,” Captain Falmore said. Everyone mount up!” he yelled.


	3. Wreckage

_“We met and our scout (Sergeant Bluebeard) relayed information to the patrol. We briefly discussed his findings and each member of the team provided their thoughts. Magister-Corporal Sunwaker proved invaluable with his expertise on the nature of the infernal stones. Given the size of the threat, we decided the most prudent course of action was to notify Camp Victory and request assistance from the Northern Garrison. We would continue tracking the orc band as it made its way north-west. No combat was anticipated as of this time. The situation had seemed under control.”_

_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_

Sweat fell down my forehead. The air down here was hotter than the ravine Bluebeard and I had been on. Nevertheless, I pushed my mount forward keeping up with the Captain’s charger. Everybody else seemed to be keeping speed. My horse’s breath was growing ragged. I felt sorry for the beast. We had been sprinting, far longer than we ever had.

Smoke rose in the distance. We were getting close.

I had made a mental note of all my medical supplies. I couldn’t call upon the light to heal so I had to compensate with other means. My shoulders started to ache, but I shrugged it off. There were more important things to worry about. Casualties were imminent. I just hoped we weren’t too late.

What was once a blur in the horizon became clearer. I could make out what appeared to be a large wagon. Fires burning on it.

“Bluebeard! Singlepipe! On Guard!” Captain Falmore yelled. His voice was muffled through his visor but was loud enough that we could hear him clearly.

“Got it Captain,” the gnome and dwarf said in unison.

Bluebeard turned off our left flank with his mount. Singlepipe jumped off his. His mechano-strider kept pace with the rest of us.

The gnome rolled as he landed and quickly spun back upright. He then crouched as his entire body vanished. I knew he didn’t vanish. Just became invisible to the naked eye.

It was an ability rogues possessed known as **stealth**. It allowed them to use the energy from their bodies to blend into any environment. A handy tool, so long as you didn’t get caught by other, more magical means.

I was sure he was walking to the opposite side of Bluebeard at that moment. Both of them would keep an eye out for any unsavory visitors.

Captain Falmore, Alamere, and I continued forward until we got within walking distance of the wreck.

It was as bad as I expected. The wagon lay sideways, the wheels on one side completely torn off. Fire and smoke billowing out from the interior. Half-open crates and barrels lay strewn. Their contents strewn about the yellow landscape. I could immediately smell something in the smoke. It was familiar.

Strangely absent however, were corpses or wounded.

“Alamere, douse the fires. Eratus, you and I will begin searching. Survivors are the priority. Keep an eye out for traps or ambushes,” the Captain said and got off his mount.

“Yes Captain,” we replied.

The smell got stronger as we dismounted. The elf twitched his noise. He waved a hand over it and a small bubble covered it. Some kind of air purifying spell.

“Sorry, the smell is absolutely deplorable. Do you want me to cover your nose as well?” Alamere said, noticing my gaze.

“Uh…thanks but I’ll be fine,” I replied. Alamere always had a delicate nose. The smell didn’t bother me too much. Besides, there was something familiar about it, maybe I would recall it later.

I began to walk through the wreckage.

“Is there anyone alive! We are Alliance forces!” I yelled.

No response. I kept walking. 

It was like a maze. I stepped around a pile of broken glass bottles. I got a glimpse inside a crate that had been hacked open carelessly and with something sharp. There were sheets of paper and what looked like measuring tools. I recognized them. They were in the alchemy shops back home in Northshire. I had seen many while delivering herbal packages for my aunt to her customers.

I peeked into another open crate. Clothes of various sizes. Nothing too fancy, although I didn’t have much an idea of what could be considered fashionable. The colors were faded, but bright enough that the owners were well-off. I picked up a shirt. It was small enough to fit a gnome…or a child.

I stifled the thought. Then I noticed what seemed to be the top of head peeking over a barrel.

I moved my right hand, drawing an invisible shape in the air. It was a movement that had been drilled by years of training under the watchful eyes of paladin instructors. Instinctively, light energy drew out from my core. With each movement, the energy formed around me and once I completed the gesture, formed a protective shell. It was the first ability, also known as seals, of a trained paladin. My order, the Knights of the Silver Hand, called it Sacred shield. I preferred to call it barrier. It was less pompous.

The barrier was a safety precaution. One too many experiences with booby-trapped corpses against rebel forces in Alterac city.

I got around the crate and was greeted with the sight of a woman. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in a look of horror. She looked middle-aged. There was a massive gash slit across her chest. Blood splattered over her clothes. Gauging by her wounds death had come quickly.

Her hands were limp. I noticed an obsidian wedding band around one of her fingers. Damn it. This was certainly another family refugee caravan, fleeing south from the wars raging in the kingdoms of Alterac and Arator.

“Light be with you,” I whispered. I raised my arm, and lowered my forehead to touch my fist in a gesture of prayer. Then in one small modicum of respect for the dead, I closed her eyes. “May you find peace,” I said.

“Did you find something?” Captain Falmore asked. He came up behind me then took one look at the woman’s corpse before shaking his head.

“Damn it,” he said.

“From what I have seen they were refugees,” I said. “They probably couldn’t afford the fees to travel by sea.”

“And a damn foolish decision. Everyone knows how dangerous it is to travel by land nowadays. Especially between Kingdoms. Have you found anyone else?” he asked.

“No. She is the only one,” I replied.

“I’ve searched the other side. Not a single living soul or dead body. Unless you count the horses. This doesn’t make sense. The orcs aren’t known for taking corpses, let alone prisoners for that matter,” the Captain said and wandered off.

It didn’t make much sense either. I found it hard to believe this woman to be the sole member of this caravan.

I watched Alamere get closer to the flames. A blue barrier, covered in ice, shielded him from the inferno. He drew his staff and made several gestures with his right hand. Arcane letters formed in front of him. Then, with both hands gripping his staff, he thrust forward. Purple arcane energy wisped from the staff before morphing into a stream of water. In moments, all that was left was the burned husk of the wagon and steam.

“The flames are doused. As requested,” Alamere said.

I walked toward the burned husk. It was then that I recognized the scent in the smoke. Silverleaf, a type of herb. It grew in abundance in the Arathi Basin. I noticed several barrels full of the burned herb in the corner.

There were some other contents that had largely been scorched into nothingness. As I took a step up to get a closer look for anything salvageable, I heard a soft moan.

My eyes turned and found a badly charred body on the side of the wagon. His eyes looked at mine. He raised a burned stump of an arm toward me.

“Someone is alive!” I yelled.

I stepped off the wagon and came closer to the man. Instinct kicked in. I immediately unslung my knapsack, full of potions and other minor remedies. Contrary to popular belief paladins were trained to use conventional remedies before relying on light energy to heal. It was out of necessity. Light energy needed to be saved for the truly dangerous situations.

There was a strong stench of burned flesh, but I winced it off. I had dealt with worse before.

I quickly glanced at his entire body. The bottom of his face was red or black, burned from the fires. His clothes were charred. With the exception of his right arm, the rest of his limbs were present albeit burned like the rest of him. He was still alive after all this time which meant there was no external bleeding. He had to be a warrior. Only someone with a warrior’s constitution could survive such an ordeal.

I immediately reached into my knapsack and pulled out two vials. One red, to treat wounds, and one orange, to treat burns.

I lifted my visor. “Drink this quickly,” before removing the corks from the vials and dribbled them down his lips.

The man coughed up some of the potion, but I could hear him make an earnest effort to swallow. After a few moments, the potion’s effects were almost instantaneous. Bits of black and red skin fell, and new skin grew to replace it. His breathing became less shallow.

“Good, good. I need to check the rest of your body for any wounds,” I said reaching for my shears.

“Is he alright?” Captain Falmore asked, coming up behind me.

“Yes sir. I need water to treat him. He is badly burned but might make it,” I replied. It wasn’t the usual way I would speak to a superior officer. However when a life was on the line healers outranked everyone on-site.

“Got it…I’ll go get Alamere,” he said then took off. 

“A-Are you Alliance?” the man asked. His voice hoarse.

“Yes. We are here to help. You are still badly wounded, but you might make it. I need to cut your clothes and check for injuries underneath,” I said reaching down with my shears.

“My wife… I-Is she still alive?” he asked.

My face twisted in sorrow as I recalled the corpse of the woman earlier. I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted.

“N-No need. I-I was being hopeful… They killed her first. The orcs. They came s-so quickly. They-,” he said then coughed.

“I am sorry. We came as fast we could,” I replied. My shears cut through the cloth, revealing his chest. I winced at the sight. “Please hold still, and drink this,” I said pouring another red vial of healing potion down his mouth.”

The man coughed and drank.

“I-It doesn’t matter. H-healing potions don’t work that way. I…I’m an alchemist,” he coughed.

I smiled. “I believe it. However, the potions are only to help you while your body’s natural healing takes into effect. Your class is a warrior isn’t it?” I asked and began to shuffle through my knapsack for a surgeon’s box.

The man’s lips creeped into what I believed was a smile. “Five generations and counting… My father balked when I said I wanted to make a living as an alchemist. He…He was a soldier. Always wanted a soldier son…carry the legacy…,” the man replied.

“You are from Arathi Basin I am guessing? I smelled the Silverleaf in the wagon?” I asked. I finally found my surgeon’s box and pulled it out.

“Yes…Arathi. I…I took my family south. The civil war…it destroyed our town. Lordearon and Gilneas closed their borders…S-Stormwind was our only hope…,” he replied.

I nodded. I remembered the sights of hundreds of desperate families in Southshore, hoping to board a boat for Stormwind. Alterac was in chaos during the occupation, and the Kingdom of Arator was in a civil war over the succession of its king.

I picked up a clean needle from the box.

“I’m going to have to poke another hole. From the state of your chest, you won’t be able to breathe in a few minutes,” I said and brought the needle closer. 

“I…I d-don’t have much time. They…They left me and my wife to die, but they took my c-children. Emma. Neras. Please….please, s-save them,” he asked. Tears formed on his face.

I almost wanted to turn away. I hated the sight of tears.

“Please sir. You will make it out of this,” I said. I leaned closer, aiming the needle over his right nipple. Away from the heart and over a collapsed lung.

The man reached for my hand and grabbed it. “Please…promise!” he pleaded. His eyes demanded an answer.

I could tell all of his strength was going in to making this one final request. I had seen those same desperate eyes before. It was what caused mothers to send their children forward on overcrowded refugee boats. For fathers to lead their families across inhospitable swamps and deserts. The eyes that held a parent’s love.

“I promise. We will ensure your children are safe,” I replied and tightly held his hands. 

The man, content with the answer, released his grip. He drew one final breath then closed his eyes. Passing into oblivion.

“No! Stay with me. Come on!” I pleaded.

I dropped the needle and began to perform a seal. It was one that I had not done in two years. A seal of healing. I felt the light well up, and then it dissipated before I could finish it. I tried again. And again.

In desperation, I tried to reach for the light. Forcing it into the desired form. Suddenly, an image flashed before my eyes. A red dress. A murky dungeon. The amber light of a torch. Shrieking.

“NO!” I yelled and I lost control as the light energy I attempted to harness recoiled. I fell.

“Eratus!” someone yelled out.

Everything was blurry. I tried to stand upright but lost my balance. Everything spun. I fell again. This time strong hands kept me up.

“Are you alright?” the figure asked. My vision gradually became sharper and I recognized Captain Falmore.

“I’m fine…Just, tried to exert a little too hard,” I replied. I stood back upright.

Captain Falmore looked at me skeptically, then turned to the man. “Is he still alive?” he asked.

“No. I couldn’t save him,” I said, closing my eyes in shame. My fists tightened and I noticed something in my hands. Something the man left behind. It was a straw doll, meant for a child.

“Don’t worry. You did everything you could,” Captain Falmore said putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I brought water as requested,” Alamere said appearing with a globe of water floating on his hand.

He looked at the two of us, then at the unmoving man by the wagon.

Alamere sighed. “Such is the frailty of mortal life,” he said. His hands twisted and the globe of water vanished.

I felt a rattling in the back of my belt. It was coming from my bag of hearthstones. I reached around and removed the glowing pebble.

“Message from main camp?” Captain Falmore asked.

“Yes sir,” I replied. I put the glowing pebble on the ground. I channeled light energy into it.

Another pebble popped into existence next to it, alongside a scroll. Captain Falmore picked up the scroll, undid the bindings, and read.

“Bah!” Captain Falmore said.

“I am assuming the news is not good,” said Alamere.

“The northern garrison has been notified. However, they will not be pursuing the orcs to this site. They are instead going to wait for the orcs to appear at the border entrances. Useless, spineless cowards. As if the orcs are going to be taking Alliance roads!” Captain Falmore said and threw the scroll.

Alamere rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes in frustration. “Well, that is a shame. Hopefully they will be able to intercept the orcs,” he said.

“We can’t let them,” I said.

“What do you mean? You heard the news. Other forces have been called to deal with this threat,” Alamere said.

“The orcs have taken children. I promised the man before he passed,” I said tightly clutching the doll.

“Eratus….,” Alamere said hands on his head in frustration. “I know you always had a bit of a heroic streak in you, but you must look at this practically.”

“Well we can’t just let them escape! You heard Captain Falmore, they will never catch the orcs once they reach the northern mountains. You know what those warlocks are capable of, or what depraved rituals they have planned with living sacrifices,” I said.

“As I said, it is a shame. However, we must be prudent and not throw ourselves needlessly at such a desperate endeavor. The orcs outnumber us two to one. They have two warlocks, and should I mention two infernal stones. We are not exactly in any position to deal with them,” Alamere said.

I didn’t want to admit it but Alamere was right. It wasn’t our duty to go after the orcs. By Alliance authority, the situation has been dealt to another element. Orders had been given and orders needed to be obeyed.

There was a brief silence between us.

“I fully agree with Sunwaker on this. We do not possess the means to tackle such a force,” Captain Falmore said.

Alamere nodded, satisfied that his view won out. I grimaced.

“But… Knight-Lieutenant Eratus, you mentioned rituals. Alamere you are our arcane expert. What sort of rituals do you think these warlocks could conduct with living sacrifices?” Captain Falmore asked.

The elf gave the Captain a questioning eye. He was never really one to be curious about anything related to the magical arts. “Well Captain. You should note that warlocks don’t necessarily require the use of specific sacrifices. What is more important is the lifeforce present in the victims. Warlocks would channel the life-force of their victims as a power source, most notable in cases to cast powerful spells. It is suggested that such a ritual on a larger scale was used to open the initial portal to Azeroth from whatever homeland they came from. Although, precisely what manner of senti-,” Alamere rambled but was then interrupted.

“I think that is enough information. And when did they typically deem such rituals for use?” he asked.

“It was rare but typically in circumstances when they were outnumbered or against superior Alliance forces,” he replied.

“Curious… and could such rituals be used to activate, say an infernal stone?” he asked.

Alamere gave the Captain an irritated glance, knowing which direction he was steering this conversation to. “It has never been seen in-person but would be feasible given the right circumstances,” he answered.

“Well then, it appears we have to act, and that we have sufficient cause and reason to attempt this rescue. After all, I believe one of our secondary duties is to deprive the enemy of anything that could endanger Alliance military forces. I do believe in this case, the children, can be used as resources to use infernal stones against a superior Alliance force, such as the northern garrison,” he said.

If there was one thing, I learned from Captain Falmore was his ability to slick his way through any type of order that he didn’t agree with. Orders had to be followed. However, some orders were more important than others.

Alamere sighed. “Captain, this is a poor decision.”

“My decision is my own Sunwaker. Besides, as we once discussed, we’ve been through worse,” he said. “Please go and get Singlepipe and Bluebeard. We are going on a raid.”

The elf magister sighed in frustration. “As you wish,” he said then walked away.

I looked at Captain Falmore. My expression one of awe. He smirked.

“Sometimes, you just need to do the right thing. Orders and rules be damned,” he said.


	4. Skirmish

_“After investigating the remnants of the caravan, I made the decision to conduct a raid. Our goal was of a purely practical nature. It was not a rescue mission. It was to deprive them of potential resources that could be used in a meaningful way against Alliance forces. Although Bluebeard’s initial reports indicated the orcs had outmatched us by a significant margin, I was confident, based on my judgment of my team’s capabilities that the situation could be handled.”_

_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_

“Hah! I knew it. The moment I caught them in sight I knew we were going to get some green-skins!” Bluebeard said.

“Quiet. You’re going to reveal our position,” I whispered. The two of us were prone against the slope of rocky hill. The orcs were on the other side.

“Relax. Lad. Those buggers aren’t going to hear a thing. Fenstring is still flying over them. Clueless bastards,” Bluebeard said. He then resumed staring blankly into the sky, his right eye glowing as he shared vision with his hawk.

There was a crawling feeling in my gut. The closer we got the more I felt it, sapping away at my confidence. I knew what it was. Fear.

Our last encounter with orcs was nearly two years ago. Someone reported a small tribe of them in some cave in the Alterac Mountains. Our team was sent to handle them. The complication? We were to bring them in alive.

It was supposed to be simple. They weren’t fighters. We were able to tell right away, given they lacked actual armaments. The fight was damn near close, I nearly lost an arm. They fought like wild berserkers without care or abandon. Both the men and women alike.

Out of that tribe only the children made it out alive. Light be damned, the crying nearly drove me insane. Some priest and his entourage picked them up on their way to an internment camp at Durnholde Keep. The man was hopeful that the orcs could be pacified with the right education. Fat chance, but I wished him the best of luck.

Now these orcs were armed, outnumbered us, and had warlocks to boot. I gripped my warhammer tightly. I looked at my mana-gauge. 80%. It was too late to turn back now.

Bluebeard and I were on a rocky slope south of the orc encampment. Captain Falmore and Alamere were behind another hill to the north. The way west was blocked by the bottom of a cliff. Abandoned mining tunnels carved into the cliffside. The orcs were between, oblivious to the impending ambush. Their wagons lay by the mining tunnels. This was probably where the children were. This was our target.

We waited.

“Singlepipe’s got another one,” Bluebeard said.

Two down, two more to go.

“Damn gnome is one sneaky bastard. That is third one. I always thought he was bluffing when he claimed first blood against rogues in arena-fights. Why I- Hold up. One is getting close,” Bluebeard said and unslung his crossbow. 

The crossbow had bolts randomly tied to its frame. Each bolt had a color that did something different. I had no idea how he was able to figure out where each bolt was but he did. He loaded one with a green tip, and crawled around the slope.

He stopped, aimed the crossbow, and the bolt flew with a twang. It landed in something mid-air. There was a surprised grunt from the orc as he appeared, the sudden hit breaking his stealth.

He wore a dark leather vest and a black hood. The orc reached for his daggers. Before he could draw a blade his hands fell. He wobbled, lost his balance, and fell with a thud as the sleeping poison did its work. He would be out for some time.

“Hah. Lousy bastard never saw it coming,” Bluebeard said then slung his crossbow. “That is four down. Let’s go!”

I stood up and rushed up the slope. Bluebeard whipped out his rifle and fired. A flare rose high into the air.

At the top of the hill I saw 6 orcs below. Some were sitting on boulders. Others lay on the ground, their wicked looking axes quite a distance away. None seemed like they were expecting an attack. Especially not in this inhospitable landscap.

The flare above began to descend. I closed my eyes. It burst in a flash of light. Surprised grunts and yells came as it blinded those who looked.

Captain Falmore appeared on the opposite hill, sword and shield in hand. Alamere came up behind. A sphere of blue energy swirling above his staff.

It was now 6 against 5. Both of our ranged attackers had the high ground against theirs. The orcs were clumped together and disorganized. We had the initiative. It was the best opening we ever had for an ambush. Luck seemed to be on our side. I hoped it would stay that for the rest of this fight. We were going to need it.

Bluebeard appeared behind me. He had already loaded another bullet and aimed his rifle into the gaggle below. There was a boom as the cannister shot burst. At the same time, Alamere thrust his staff downward, sending the blue sphere down. There were confused yelps and shrieks as pellets sprayed the blinded orcs. Half a moment later Alamere’s sphere burst as it struck the ground. Frost crystals mushroomed out from the impact. Some unlucky orcs were caught; frozen in place.

“For the Alliance!” Captain Falmore yelled and leapt. He landed with the sound of a thunderclap, knocking several orcs to the ground. I was always amazed by how agile warriors were while wearing all that armor.

I, not being a warrior, charged the slope with my warhammer raised high. By the time I got down the battle was in full-swing. The remaining orcs scrambled for their weapons. One, wearing chainmail and a horned helmet, lifted his bow and loosed an arrow at me.

I ignored it and continued forward. The arrow struck my light barrier with a spark, then ricocheted harmlessly away. 

Before the hunter could draw another arrow there was a loud boom as Bluebeard’s bullet found its mark, sending the orc reeling to the ground.

One of the orcs, burst out of his frozen cage. He roared and dashed toward me. His lower fangs bared. He wore heavy red and gray plate armor. The markings of a warrior. He conveniently forgot his weapon.

He threw a wild punch. I let it glance off my light barrier and swung my warhammer in kind. The holy seal on the hammer’s side flared as I let light energy flow into it. As it landed, yellow bolts crackled out and struck the orc. My foe shrieked in agony and was sent flying to the side.

I heard another scream from the rear. I turned and saw another enraged orc warrior. He raised his axe high and charged.

He suddenly stopped and howled in pain. He dropped the axe as his hands reached for his face. A dagger was sticking where his right eye once was.

A gnome materialized out of thin air in front of the orc. Singlepipe leaped, landing another cheap shot with his dagger between the weak joints of the warrior’s armor. The orc heaved forward. Singlepipe landed behind him, striking where the kidneys and dropping the orc to his knees. To finish off his combo attack he leapt once more, entangling the orc’s neck in a thin garrote and pulled, sending him to the ground.

“Go! I got you covered!” Singlepipe yelled, pulling out his dagger out. The orc howled in agony, while grasping at the garrote. The gnome threw several smoking grenades in all directions, before leaving the struggling orc on the ground.

I nodded and ran towards the wagons. We had to find the children and disengage as quickly as possible.

Singlepipe’s grenades burst, covering the entire battlefield in a massive smoke cloud. I saw Captain Falmore facing down an orc warrior and warlock. He gave me a nod before drawing them away from the wagons. They disappeared into the smoke. The wagons were left vulnerable.

I ran toward the wagons before the smoke obscured the battlefield. There was the sound of shrieks, yells, metal clanging against metal, and the occasional boom of a rifle.

I reached the first wagon. There was a fur shawl covering the contents. I grabbed the corner and ripped it off.

I was assaulted with the sudden smell of rotten eggs and a dissolved corpse. Following immediately was a sense of impending doom. I heaved and resisted the urge to hurl. It was a tell-tale sign of fel poisoning. Whatever was in the wagon was deeply emanating the corruptive energy.

I looked at the source. It was a massive rock. Cracks of green fel energy swirled around it. This was probably the infernal stone that Alamere was talking about. Now I knew why they were so effective as siege weapons. If this was the feeling it riled in a passive state, I could only imagine what it would be like as the real thing. It would throw the entire population of a garrison into chaos.

Then I noticed the streams of light flowing from a cloaked and huddled figure above it.

I drew the seal in the air, this time with a light flourish. Instead of shielding myself, the energy formed a barrier around the cloaked figure. The streams of light were blocked, but wisped around the barrier, trying to probe it like a leech. I removed the cloak.

I was greeted with the sight of a shivering young boy. His skin was gray. Tears were flowing down his eyes. He stared blankly into the distance. 

Damn it. I hated seeing crying children. I resisted the urge to look away, and made the most sympathetic smile I could make.

“Neras?” I asked.

The boy hearing his own name, looked at mine. A small bit of relief flooded down my back. It was not too late. If we had let the orcs continue, there was no guarantee that the children would have been alive if the Northern garrison had caught them. And that was a big if.

“We’re here to help. Can you stand?” I asked. The boy nodded weakly and tried to stand up. He stumbled and before he could fall, I held him up.

“Careful there,” I said and gently lifted him out of the wagon.

I felt a flare of fel energy erupt behind me. The boy’s eyes grew wide. I could see the reflection of a green flame getting closer and closer.

I felt something splash against my barrier. The shield held then shattered. Pain blossomed out as the force impacted my shoulderplate. My vision narrowed. I was thrown forward. I grabbed the boy in a bear hug as we crashed through the wagon, and slid across the ground. The infernal stone fell and rolled away, disappearing into the smoke.

The boy was unharmed but terrified. I stood up and placed myself between him and the direction of the blow. I redid the barrier seal with a hand. Light reformed around me.

A figure appeared and grew clearer as it got closer. This orc had no weapons. It did not wear heavy armor. It wore blood red robes that matched its glowing red eyes. Bone ornaments adorned his body. Green fire licked its way out of its hands. This was a warlock.

We faced each other. Warlocks were dangerous foes. My training told me I had to close the distance.

I noted there were tears in its clothes, probably from Bluebeard’s cannister shot. It limped as it walked. He was not moving anywhere anytime soon.

This was my chance. “Kid, stay back,” I said and charged forward.

The warlock noticed my approaching figure and growled. He raised his hands. Green fel fire shot forward in a destructive bolt. This time, I was prepared this time. I fed more light energy into the seal. It shimmered as the opposing forces made contact. The flames dissipated to the sides.

Before he could cast another spell, I was within striking distance. I raised my warhammer high and swung.

Before reaching the warlock a massive shadowy arm blocked the blow. Sparks flew as light and dark energy sputtered out.

I saw another shadowy fist reeling in from the corner of my eye. I stepped back barely avoiding its swipe.

The warlock gave me a fanged grin. The shadows coalesced together into a hulking monstrosity known as a voidwalker. The warlock’s familiar.

I charged and swung my hammer. The voidwalker stopped my blow once more. Beings like this were weak against light energy. I fed energy into my hammer and the seal came to life. The holy energy pummeled the being and it screamed in pain. I swung again and banished it to the nether. I was about to close the distance to the warlock when hellfire erupted in front of me.

I stopped, raising my hand to feed energy into the seal. It splashed against my barrier. Snipping and crackling. Chipping away. I raised my arm, pouring more light energy into the seal.

65%... 63%.... my mana gauge continued to drop.

The warlock snarled, intensifying the fire. I fueled more light energy into the shield. I grit my teeth, holding my ground against the inferno.

My mana gauge fell faster. 58%.... 45%.... 38%....

It was taking all my concentration to keep up against the warlock’s assault. My vision began to blur. It became harder and harder to focus.

A hawkish cry bellowed from above. A blue blur bolted down from the sky, smashing into the warlock. The fire stopped.

The siphon broke and I was able to move once more. I charged the warlock.

When I got in striking distance the hawk flew away. The orc saw my swing and raised his hands. Dark energy coalesced into a small shield. My hammer came down. The opposing forces reacted in an explosive shockwave. He stumbled back. I slammed my hammer into the ground to avoid sliding.

The warlock limped back upright. I was leaning against my hammer, breathing heavily. There were cracks around my light barrier. I took a look at my mana-gauge. 4%.

The warlock gathered dark energy gathered in a ball. 

I braced myself.

There was a loud boom. The warlock looked stunned, grasping at the hole in his chest. He fell.

The energy from his hands fizzled out. The warlock’s corpse fell in a heap to the ground.

A dwarf’s outline appeared through the smoke. His rifle aimed at the dead orc. “You alright there lad!” Bluebeard yelled and ran towards me.

“Never been better. You make a dramatic entrance as always,” I said, heaving. I reached into my potion pouch. I pulled out a blue vial and braced myself before emptying the contents down my throat. It burned like alcohol and tasted like old beer. They say bitter medicine is the best medicine. I wished otherwise.

I peeked at my mana gauge. The number rose, stabilizing at 78%.

“Well, it wasn’t hard finding you. I could see your little fireworks display from the hill,” he chuckled.

I felt the boy grab my leg. He peeked behind me, staring at the dwarf.

The smoke began to settle. I saw Singlepipe weaving between two orc warriors. He parried, dodged, and retaliated. I reminded myself never to challenge Singlepipe to a duel. He was handling both of them. 

“Alright we got one kid,” Bluebeard said noting the boy hiding behind one of the boulders. “Where is the other?”

I looked and found the other wagon. Or what remained of it. Laying next to it was an infernal stone and a comatose little girl.

“Look out!” Bluebeard said and tackled me aside. The three of us fell to the ground as a whirling mass of gray dashed past where I stood. It landed then turned. The worg bared its teeth at us. A wolf, except thrice the size and twice the fangs.

“Can you get the boy to safety?” I asked Bluebeard.

“You got it,” he replied. A moment later Fenstring flew around and with one rapid swipe grabbed the boy by his shoulders and picked him up. The boy yelped.

“Relax kid! Old Fenstring will take care of yeh!” Bluebeard said as the bird carried him off the safety. The dwarf slung his rifle and drew twin axes from his back.

“Get the girl! I’ll handle this furball. Cm’ere you overgrown wolf. Old Bluebeard heres gonna make a pelt outta you!” he yelled grinding his axes against each other. They charged.

I made a dash for the last kid. 

“Stop him!” I heard Alamere yell. He aimed his staff down preparing a spell at something. Before he could complete it though, an orc rogue materialized out of thin air and tackled him. The two tumbled down the slope.

This wasn’t good. If the orc rogues joined the battle, the odds we were going to make it out alive was slim to none.

Then I saw what Alamere was pointing at. The last orc warlock stood over an infernal stone. With the other he held an injured orc warrior. He plunged the dagger into the orc’s exposed neck. Fel energy shot out from the dead orc’s bulk. The stone began to pulse and sent out a shockwave.

I reached for the girl.

And was thrown to the side. I slammed against one of the rock slopes, nearly blacking out.

As I got up, I saw the warlock pick up the girl with his greasy hands. He cackled.

My eyes turned to the source of the shockwave.

Where the stone once sat was a crater. That same sense of doom returned, this time three-fold.

A massive stone arm rose. Lines of green fel fire crackled from where ligaments would be.

The arm crashed into the ground as the thing clawed its way up. It was shaped like an armored knight. It’s chest, the size of a house. Green fire licked out of its joints. At its height, the head turned to stare down upon us. Where there should have been eyes were twin fiery dots.

The infernal opened its mouth, a maw of green fel-fire, and let out a bloodcurdling roar.


	5. Infernal

**_“I remember reading their description in the old reports. They were colossal beings of rock and fel fire. Their roars shook the land, toppled the strongest towers, and collapsed entire houses. Brave men and women routed in their midst. They were the catalyst of the destruction of countless fortresses and cities. I can personally state this was an accurate description of what we encountered.”_ **

**_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_ **

The infernal’s roar sent deafening shockwaves rippling in all directions. I wanted to cover my ears from the noise. I couldn’t due to my helmet.

When it stopped, I saw the orc warlock raise his hands. A purple orb formed. Lines of arcane glyphs streamed out then around the infernal, binding it like chains. The hulking behemoth struggled, trying to break free. I recognized it. An enslavement ritual.

“Don’t let him finish the spell!” I yelled and started to run towards him. I wouldn’t be able to close the distance in time. Captain Falmore, Singlepipe, and Alamere were occupied with the other orcs.

“On it!” Bluebeard yelled. The dwarf jumped off the worg’s corpse. His axes left embedded in its neck.

He reached into his belt and pulled out a wand. “Hyah!” he yelled and threw it at the warlock. It spun through the air like an axe.

“You aren’t supposed to use it like that!” I heard Alamere yell as he parried a dagger.

The wand continued to spin and collided with the purple orb. It was anyone’s guess as to why what happened next did happen. All I knew was the orb burst and the wand shattered in a flash of energy. The pieces flew like shrapnel and peppered the warlock. He yelled in pain, clutching his wounded hands as the spell failed.

“Hah! Told yeh that yeh could never have one too many weapo-,” Bluebeard yelled. He was cut off by the infernal’s roar.

Its arms shot out, shearing through the purple seals. Free from its restraints.

I knew infernals were not living beings but constructs. Without a master controlling its will, they followed their base instinct and purpose. Destroy anything and everything around it.

It swung a massive arm at the closest living beings. An elf and orc.

Alamere saw it coming. He parried dodged away from the orc’s dagger and raised his staff. A cocoon of frost engulfed him. The orc did not see it coming. He raised his dagger to strike again when the blow landed, sending the two airborne.

They smashed against the side of a cliff. Alamere’s cocoon shattered. The orc’s body splattered in a spray of blood.

They fell. Both landed with a thud. Neither moved. Alamere’s staff landed nearby, snapped in two.

The infernal marched forward. It swung its arms wildly against anything and everything nearby.

“Get distance!” Captain Falmore yelled. He jumped away as the infernal’s arm landed where he stood just a moment ago. The orc warrior he was fighting didn’t react in time and was flattened.

The infernal swung again. It veered towards Singlepipe and an orc rogue. Both of them noticed. The gnome clicked his boot heels. Twin jets of fire erupted from his boots, darting him away. The orc rogue dove to the side. The arm hit neither and crashed to the ground.

It marched forward, catching up with a dwarf who was running as quickly as his stubby legs could muster.

“Bluebeard, behind you!” I yelled. He turned to see a pillar of rock looming over him. It rushed down.

There was the sudden sound of metal crashing against stone. The infernal’s leg stopped short of landing on Bluebeard. Captain Falmore had appeared between them, his shield held up against the thing’s foot. Red energy, rage as they called it, flared from the impact and into Captain Falmore.

The human warrior pushed; his strength boosted by the energy he gathered. The infernal stumbled back stepping on an unsuspecting orc rogue.

“Captain-,” Bluebeard started but the warrior interrupted.

“You can thank me later! Grab your weapon, we aren’t going to outrun that thing! That means we’re taking it out! Riverwood, Singlepipe. Form up and flank! I’m on point as tank, wait until it strikes!” he yelled.

“Got it!” Singlepipe yelled and began to run to the infernal’s side.

“Understood!” I replied and ran on the opposite side.

As I ran, I formed a gesture with my hands as I ran closer to the infernal. Second Seal: Judgment. I rarely used this because of it caused collateral damage. However, the occasion was right. My mana gauge levels dropped to 55%. I grabbed my warhammer. Light enveloped the weapon and expanded. A massive light hammer, four times the size of my weapon, appeared.

Captain Falmore flourished his sword at the infernal in a taunting gesture. It regained its balance, staring down at the human. It roared in fury, and its arm sweeped down again.

The human warrior raised his shield. Cracks appeared on the ground below him as the blow landed. However, he held.

His sword glowed red, empowered with rage he generated from the infernal’s blow. He pivoted and slashed the infernal’s arm. It burst in a shower of rocks. The infernal screamed in what seemed like agony.

Singlepipe pointed a wrist contraption at the infernal. An arm-mounted rocket popped up. He pushed a button, and the missile went flying.

Bluebeard had his crossbow out. A bolt with a blunt, bright red end was loaded. He aimed it at the infernal and released it with a twang.

I swung my hammer against the thing’s side.

Our attacks landed in explosions of sound and light. I dashed back before the explosion engulfed me.

As the smoke cleared, I couldn’t believe it. The infernal still stood. Large chunks of its body were missing, but it still stood. It roared again.

Rocks rose, carried along currents of fel energy, patching up the holes in its body.

“I don’t think we have the weapons to stop that thing!” Singlepipe yelled.

“We have to try again!” Captain Falmore yelled. “Go from t-.” Captain Falmore raised his shield as the infernal’s arm came swinging toward him from the side. Then I saw a shadowbolt rushing toward him from behind.

“Captain!” I yelled. I started drawing a barrier seal with my hands. It didn’t help. I wasn’t close enough.

The bolt struck the warrior. Captain Falmore stumbled forward, not anticipating the sudden strike. His shield drooped. We watched with horror as the arm struck him with a sickening crunch and knocked him away. His shield and sword fell. He landed face-down on the ground.

My eyes turned in the direction of the shadowbolt. An orc warlock stood in front of one of the mine entrances. He had a single shaking hand stretched out, riddled with shards of glass. Behind him were the surviving orcs. One of the warriors had the infernal stone in on one hand. Another carried a little girl, wrapped in cloth. They disappeared into the mines.

The warlock gave me a fanged grin, content to let the infernal finish us off. He turned following the rest of his kind into the darkness.

The infernal let out another deafening roar. It lifted a leg and was about to step on Captain Falmore when it rocked back as something exploded off its shoulder.

Bluebeard loaded another bolt into his crossbow and fired. The ensuing explosion sent the infernal further back

“Lad! Get Captain Falmore and get out of here! I’ll keep this thing busy!” he yelled at me. He loaded and fired another bolt. A puff of smoke plumed in front of the infernal’s face. Blind. It swung, hitting nothing but air.

Singlepipe already seemed to be several steps ahead. I saw him help Alamere up. The elf was clutching his waist. They began to limp away.

“We can’t just leave you here!” I replied.

“Doesn’t matter! Ain’t nobody messes with Bluebeard’s chums. Especially not some lousy hunk of rock!” he yelled. He dropped his crossbow, when the last bolt bounced harmlessly off the infernal’s rocky hide. He unslung his rifle and began to fire.

I couldn’t just Bluebeard here to die. There was also no telling whether we would be able to outrun that thing. Even with our mounts.

However, the infernal just took all of our strongest blows and shrugged it off like they were nothing. The rocks just reformed every time we took out a chunk.

I then noticed that the currents had a pattern. They appeared from the center. I noticed a part where the infernal’s armor hadn’t reformed was a core of green fel energy. A core.

“Aim for the green orb in its center!” I yelled.

Bluebeard listened and fired a shot. The infernal buckled, however the core of energy remained intact. Rocks rapidly reforming around it.

“No good! Get out of here!” he yelled, reloading.

Then it hit me. I had never fought against an actual demonic being, but it was taught to all paladins. It happened on the battlefield when I struck the warlock’s barrier. An element’s weakness was its diametric opposite. Water to Fire. Fel to Light.

I had one shot at this.

“I got another idea! Keep it distracted!” I said and began to redraw the seal of judgment. My mana gauge fell and light enveloped my hammer. 45%...38%.... as I continued to channel light energy.

“What! For the love of the Tita-Damn it lad!” he yelled, firing again.

34%...30%.... My hammer began to shine brighter and brighter.

“Whatever you’re planning you better not die. Otherwise I am going to haunt your ghost for as long as I live!” I heard him yell. Another shot boomed out.

24%.... Then it stopped. The seal’s power had reached its limit.

The infernal’s core was still visible. It was still reforming though. I had to do this while it was exposed. I charged.

“I’m out!” Bluebeard yelled.

The infernal turned its gaze from the dwarf to me. It raised an arm to strike. I was running too fast and wouldn’t be able to dodge.

Ice shot up in front of the arm, locking it in place. Out of the corner of my sight I saw Alamere, leaning against Singlepipe. One hand stretched out with a broken top of his staff. The blue energy fizzled out.

This was no time to be grateful. I had to focus. I was within striking range. I heaved and swung my warhammer. The expanded light-empowered weapon smashed into the infernal’s rock armor.

“Come on!” I yelled. I pressed my warhammer harder. Cracks appeared from the strain. The infernal’s arm broke free of the ice.

Then the rock gave way. As the light hammer impacted the infernal’s core. There was a chaotic flash of green and yellow light.

The infernal roared, its voice pitched higher until it became a shriek. The core glowed as the opposing energies swirled around each other. It glowed brighter and brighter until it was as blinding as the afternoon sun. Cracks rippled out of the infernal’s body. Then, like a bomb, the being detonated.

The aftershock threw me back. The recoil sent my weapon flying out of my hands.

I landed on the ground. After a moment I opened my eyes. There was a massive black scar where the infernal once stood. Rocks lay strewn about. Wisps of fel energy dissipated from them and into the nether.

It was over.

I let out a sigh, and breathed deeply for the first time since the fight.

I noticed my broken hammer on the ground. The head was shattered, the inscribed seal cut in half. I felt a tinge of sadness. I got that hammer when I graduated from the Knight’s academy. It had been with me since then. I had hoped to bring it home.

I could feel the bruises everywhere. A healing seal could have solved that problem. Unfortunately I couldn’t.

“You did it lad. You did it! Always believed in yeh!” I heard Bluebeard yell. He scrambled over to me.

“We did it,” I replied.

“Well, I will acknowledge that I played no small part. But you finished it off. Ha ha!” Bluebeard said.

“Help me up,” I said. “I need to go see to the Captain Falmore.”

Captain Falmore was comatose. He had taken one hell of a beating and would have a few more scars added to his face but he was alive. Singlepipe and Alamere joined us.

“That was a reckless decision young man,” the elf wheezed. His hands clutched his waist. Broken ribs, and we had run out of healing potions.

Then he gave me a weak smile. “Reckless but I’d say brave. I daresay nobody has ever taken out an infernal with so few before.”

“Well we just upped the ante on ‘things we shouldn’t have lived through, but did so anyway.’ Do you think we could find ourselves a black dragon before this patrol ends?” I smiled back.

The elf tried to chuckle but coughed instead. “Please…let us not tempt fate. I have enough stories to last an entire elven life-time with you lot, and I do want to see Silvermoon again. Preferably in one piece.”

“So what do we do now?” Singlepipe asked.

“We…We should retreat. We are in no condition to pursue the orcs,” Alamere said

“Well Lad. I think that is your decision. You’re next in charge,” Bluebeard said to me.

I suddenly became aware of everyone’s eyes turning towards me. Bluebeard was right. With Captain Falmore down I was the now ranking officer.

Then we heard the sound of something running toward us.

It was the boy. He looked surprisingly well, given how just before the battle he was nearly drained dry. Must’ve inherited his father’s physique. Fenstring trailed behind him.

“Fenstring! I told you to get the boy to safety!” Bluebeard said as the hawk dove and perched on the dwarf’s arm.

It squawked in return.

“Eh, whatever. Couldn’t help but worry about your old pal. I get it,” he said nuzzling the bird’s chin.

“Do you actually talk bird?” Singlepipe asked.

“No. I don’t think anyone does,” Bluebeard replied.

“Well how do you know it said that,” the gnome asked.

“Its… a hunter thing,” Bluebeard replied.

The boy tugged at my knee. “W-W-Will everything be okay?” he asked.

I went down to his height.

“Everything is okay now kid. We’ll get you to safety soon,” I said.

“W-Will I see Ma and Pa again?” he asked.

My lips went tight.

“I cannot promise, but I am sure they are looking for you as well. We’ll find them,” I lied.

The boy nodded.

“And Emma, what about Emma? My sister. The monsters took her. I saw them,” he asked pointing to the mine entrance.

“I am afraid your sister is out of our reach. However, your safety can be assured,” Alamere interrupted.

“But they took her! You’ll save her though. Won’t you? Won’t you?” the boy begged.

“It would be most imprudent of us to do so. Do you not see our condition? We risked our necks to save your hide child,” the elf replied.

“For such a long-lived and ‘wise’ race, you all are quite the insensitive lot …” Bluebeard said. Fenstring squawked in what seemed like agreement.

“But I am right.” Alamere said.

Bluebeard sighed and shook his head.

Singlepipe looked away and whistled. He didn’t do well with handling these situations.

The kid looked at me. For the love of the light he started to cry.

“Look kid…,” I started not knowing exactly what to say or how to say it.

What was I going to do? Alamere did have a point. We were in no condition to go on another rescue run. The mission was done. The orcs were trapped, and those mines were long abandoned and led nowhere. If whatever was down in the mines didn’t get them first, we would have a few patrols waiting for them to come back out.

I could almost envision the kid’s future. The corpses of his parents would be recovered. There would be a burial ceremony. Some priest would bless the graves, give the kid some comforting words on how his family’s souls were now one with the light. Then he would get shipped off to one of the hundreds of orphanages in the kingdom for war orphans. He’d be taken of care until he came of age.

His sister would probably never be seen again. The boy already lost his family, what more was one more? Everyone lost family. It was the way of this world.

I felt the doll tied to my belt. The one his father gave me with his dying breath. Just one more broken promise.

If we left now, there would be no repercussions. It was the right thing by the book. Preserve our forces. Live to fight another day.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

“Don’t worry,” I said and patted the boy on his head. “We’ll save your sister.”

“You will? You promise?” the boy asked.

I reached around grabbing the doll. I put it in his hands.

“Yes, that is a promise,” I said.

“Eratus you cannot be serious!” Alamere tried to yell but started coughing.

“Don’t strain yourself Alamere,” I said and walked past him.

I picked up Captain Falmore’s sword and shield. Not the ideal set of arms. My swordsmanship was terrible, it was why I had a hammer in the first place. There was also no seal on the weapon, and I didn’t have time to inscript a new one.

I’ll be back in no time. Bluebeard send a message to Camp Victory for help.” I said. “I drew a hearthstone from my pouch and tossed it toward him.

“Oh sod off. If you’re going down there, I’m coming with ya!” Bluebeard replied.

“You don’t have to come with me. This is my decision,” I said.

“Bah. Singlepipe can handle the message,” he said and tossed the hearthstone to the gnome, who caught it.

“Besides,” he said and walked to the dead worg. He tore his axes free. He pointed at the mines. “Those are dwarven tunnels. You’ll need a dwarf to navigate those.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“Lad. I’ve lived a long time. Remember what I told yeh,” he said.

I remembered. It was one of the first things he told me. Never argue with a 150 year old dwarf. Odds are he knows a thing or two.

“We stick together till the end,” Bluebeard replied and winked.

I sighed but smiled.

“Thank you,” I said.

“There we go! Now… lets hunt some orc!” Bluebeard said, brandishing his axes.

We walked forward. Side-by-side. Out of the sunlight and into the darkness. To whatever awaited us in the depths below.


	6. Ancient Ruins

**_“I was notified by Singlepipe after my fall that we were able to subdue the infernal. Knight-Lieutenant Eratus Riverwood took command and out of his own volition, went with Sergeant Bluebeard in a pursuit of the orcs. Sergeant Bluebeard’s hunter’s companion, Fenstring, Tinkerer Singlepipe, and Magister Sunwaker remained with the recovered child. I was not present for this unauthorized expedition so there is nothing objective to report…”_ **

**_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_**

“Wait,” Bluebeard said.

I nearly tripped over him. Again.

It was dark. There was no natural lighting this far down. The only indication that Bluebeard was in front was the smell of his pipe tobacco.

“Do we have to keep walking in complete darkness?” I asked. I stepped to the side and my helmet slammed into the side of the tunnel.

“It’ll only be for a few more moments,” he replied. He said the same thing only moments ago.

Easy for him to say anyway. He seemed to be able to see in the dark a lot easier than I could. I didn’t know if this was a dwarf thing or a hunter thing.

We were following a trail of footprints that only he could see.

I rubbed the pommel of Captain Falmore’s sword with my hand. I was half-tempted to flicker an orb of light, at least see where we were headed, even if it was just the careening tunnel.

“Lad, don’t do it,” Bluebeard said.

“I wasn’t about to,” I replied.

“I can see your fingers twitching. Remember what I told yeh,” he said. I remembered. When the light from the surface dimmed, I instinctively raised a hand. When it started to glow with light, the dwarf knocked it away. He gave me an old miner’s warning.

Do not bring the light above to the ground below.

On the bright side, the sun’s rays weren’t beating down on me and I was no longer cooking like a pot of stew. We continued walking.

“I think-Ah perfect!” the dwarf said. I felt him move away, leaving me alone in the darkness.

“Bluebeard, what are you doing?” I asked.

I heard the sound of rusted metal rubbing against rusted metal. The shuffle of…paper? Something made a squeal.

“Hold tight lad. These tunnels are old but they are dwarven, and if I am right…there we are!” he said.

Then there was a click. I heard gears shriek then roll. Then rock scraping against rock.

“Hah. Knew it! No self-respecting dwarf builds a tunnel without room for a secret stash,” Bluebeard said.

I heard the shuffle of metal tools clanging against each other. Then there was a soft scrape. A dim red flame flared into being above a wooden torch. It illuminated Bluebeard’s face and everything a few feet around him. He was standing by what looked like a closet that had been carved into the tunnel wall.

He passed the torch to me. “Mining torch. Can’t have you trippin over me every odd moment. Not perfect, but won’t attract any nasty buggers living down here,” he said. 

I took it, finally relieved to have some light. It only illuminated a few feet ahead but it was better than nothing.

He resumed looking through the closet. He tossed our pickaxes, shovels, helmets. Finally, he brought out a small chest.

“Ah-hah. Here we are!” he said, opening the chest and lifting out a stone tablet. He blew the dust off. I stepped closer to take a peek. On it were a series of shapes and lines. I couldn’t make sense out of it.

“Old mine map, and these things are old...Haven’t seen ones this aged except as old family heirlooms. Give me just a moment for us to get our bearings,” he said. He traced the lines with a finger.

While he looked at the map, I decided to take a look around. Besides the closest, the tunnel split into a small room ahead. There were minecarts stacked up to the side. The room fed to four other tunnels. Rails crisscrossed in the center and disappeared down the tunnels.

I noticed the footprints Bluebeard was talking about. They veered into the room then off into a tunnel.

“I got it. We need to go this way.” Bluebeard said holding the stone tablet. He took a step into the room then towards a tunnel opposite the one with the orc footprints.

“Wait. Shouldn’t we head down this way?” I said pointing at the tracks.

“And then what? I’m not feeling the need to get shanked in the back by some orc rogue waiting for someone comin after them,” he said. I lowered my finger. He was right.

“You need to think like a hunter lad. According to this map that tunnel leads only one way and it’s a long ways ahead. We’re taking a shortcut. Cut them off before they get too far down. I don’t know why these tunnels were abandoned but they were for a reason. I don’t want to stay long enough to find out why,” he said.

I agreed. Get in, get the girl, get out. I followed him down the tunnel.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as we traveled. The air got colder. The floor became softer. I could hear water dripping from the ceiling.

I shivered, damp sweat clung to my body and cooled. Bluebeard was focused on the path ahead. I was left to my thoughts.

The gravity of what I had just done started to settle in. It was the two of us against six to seven orcs. The odds were bad enough earlier when they outnumbered us two to one. Then we had the element of surprise, were fully rested, and fully equipped.

Now, it was three to one. They probably thought we were all dead, but they were alerted to possible pursuers. We were worn-out and tried. I didn’t know how much more stamina Bluebeard had left but I could feel the fatigue begin to settle in. I failed out of swordsmanship training in my first year. Bluebeard had his axes but didn’t have his crossbow, rifle, or his hawk. No point bringing those down since he was out of ammunition and Fenstring didn’t do too well without light. The dwarf could do mean things in melee but axes were hardly his weapon of choice.

And the orcs still had a warlock and the infernal stone. This was all for naught if the girl wasn’t alive, and that was again a large if.

It whittled away at my resolve. There was a part of me that wanted to leave the girl to her fate. Turn back up. Tell everyone we tried. Go back to camp then go home to Northshire. Back to green farms. Away from the closing walls, the dim red light, and the ever-present darkness ahead and behind where anyone or anything could leap out.

“You okay lad?” Bluebeard asked.

“Yes. Nothing. It’s fine,” I said promptly. I tried to keep the shiver out of my voice.

“Relax…lad. The way I see it, Captain Falmore will have our hides for this little crazy venture if we make it out, child or no child. Either that or we die heroically against the orcs, or get eaten by whatever lives down there. If you go deep enough, I hear there is a giant worm that keeps you alive and slowly eats you over ten years!” he chuckled.

“Not helping Bluebeard,” I replied. I didn’t ask him about what sort of things lived down here nor did I want to. One of the toughest instructors I had spent several months as a healer, helping the dwarves dig through the mountain to build a tunnel between Stormwind and Ironforge. He never told us of what happened or what he saw but he refused go down anything that resembled a cave, tunnel, or mine.

“Just joking, we’ll be out fine,” he laughed. I didn’t.

We kept walking, then Bluebeard said, “-but I’ll say I’m proud of what you did. Making a promise to that little boy and keeping it. Really showed me that not all of you lot are unfeeling armored bastards with an axe shoved up the ass.”

Classic Bluebeard. Always follow a praise with an insult.

“Thanks…,” I replied.

“I’m being serious. I’ve seen plenty of your ilk turn tail the first moment of real trouble. What you did took real courage lad. Be proud of it,” he said.

I didn’t say anything. There was a quarter of me that wanted to do exactly what he said and turn around. But his words helped. I pressed on, trying not to think too much. 

The dwarf paused. There was a sharp corner ahead. I could hear wind billowing through.

“Careful here,” he said and watch your step, and stepped around.

We passed out of the tunnel into a titanic cavern, over the edge of a cliff. A stone bridge shot out in front, into the darkness. I couldn’t see the end.

I kicked a pebble loose on my next step. It tumbled away and off the cliff’s edge. I didn’t hear it land. I swallowed. I instinctively reached around my belt. I relaxed a bit when I could feel the slow-feather in a pouch. 

We started crossing the bridge. It was narrow but large enough for two men to step together side-by-side. Even with the room I was still conscious of each step. The wind was both relieving and unnerving. Any minute I expected a gale to send me tumbling off the edge. 

I relaxed a bit when I saw the end, leading into yet another tunnel leading down. I mentally cursed.

“How much further?” I asked Bluebeard. I was getting anxious, and down here I was losing a sense of time. The battle with the infernal seemed to have happened long ago… even though I knew it was only at most an hour.

“Not much further. We should be getting close soon,” Bluebeard replied as we stepped onto the cliff.

The tunnel careened down. The bruises from the day’s effort began to ache. The air got colder. Almost freezing. I grit my teeth, letting the discomfort sharpen my focus.

“Alright, we’re here,” Bluebeard said. He halted, right as the tunnel veered sharply to the left.

I covered the torch and extinguished the flame, tucking it in my belt. I redid the straps on the shield, and tightly gripped the sword. Bluebeard brought his axes up in a combat stance.

I suddenly realized that I had no plan. How exactly were we going to get the girl and get away?

Bluebeard interrupted my train of thought. “We’ll get in, start clobbering, whisk the girl, then run,” he said.

Well it was better than anything I could come up with in time. I nodded.

We fell to a crouch. I raised my shield and braced my sword. Elementary defensive stance. At least that was how I was supposed to hold the thing. We creeped forward.

“Huh, that’s odd,” Bluebeard suddenly said them stood.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Then I saw the body on the edge of the corner.

Bluebeard walked toward it and flipped it over. “Dead,” Bluebeard said.

Whatever it was, it was ugly. That was the simplest description I can think of. It also smelled. I thought I had a pretty tough nose, but even I had to wince as I was assaulted by the stench of old sweat and shit. The corpse looked like an overgrown goblin with gray fur and a head too big for its body. There was ragged tear across its body, probably caused by some bladed weapon.

“Troggs. Looks like the orcs came across one of those underground dwellers,” Bluebeard said.

“The thing doesn’t look to pleasant but it doesn’t seem so threatening either,” I said.

“Oh that’s because you haven’t been up against a pack of those. What I don’t get is why there is only one. There should be more…,” Bluebeard said standing back up.

We turned the corner and we saw a trail of dead troggs leading ahead.

A battle had happened here. Concern grew. Every second we spent was another second of something bad happen. I frowned. “We need to go,” I said. I took a step ahead.

“Careful,” Bluebeard said holding me back. “We go together.” 

We continued forward and the tunnel began to open up. There was light in distance.

We stopped and stared in awe at what was at the other end. Two enormous stone doors were mounted against the wall. Twin giants of some humanoid race, sculpted into the rockside, stood beside it. They were in a position of labor, holding the ceiling up. Four braziers burned brightly below the figures.

Above the gate, archaic symbols, were crafted. I didn’t understand what they meant. They seemed… ancient.

“Uldaman…,” Bluebeard chirped. “The symbols say Uldaman…”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Beats me,” he shrugged. “You’d have to ask an archaeologist. This wasn’t on the maps. Not sure how the orcs beat us down here… maybe I made a mistake. That doesn’t make sense though…”

He brought back up the stone tablet.

Then I noticed the gate was open. The trail of dead troggs continued from the cavern. I noticed something off about one body. It was bigger than the others, different... It recognized it as an orc.

That was when I felt a familiar sensation tugging at the edge of my mind. A feeling of dread. It was an infernal stone. And where the stone was, the child was likely nearby.

“I can feel the infernal stone. I’m going,” I said and rushed forward.

“Slow down lad! We don’t know what caused this. For all we know we-,” he started but my mind was focused on the what was ahead. The sooner we got the girl, or verified that she was dead, the sooner we could leave. 

I passed by the corpse I saw earlier. It was an orc rogue. There were several of the troggs around him. Based on the puddle of blood, they fought then bled to death.

I got closer to the gate. More orc bodies. Heavily armored. From their position, they had been trying to pry the door open before being overrun. I could see a sizeable gap through the door. Enough to squeeze through. Three dead corpses. That left three or four.

“Wait up!” Bluebeard yelled.

I squeezed through the gap. I came into a hallway, its size befitting of a giant. Equally gigantic torches illuminated the way ahead, along with another trail of corpses. The sense of dread grew stronger. I was close.

I followed the trail of dead troggs down the hallway. Some had burn marks. Signs of hellfire and fel energy. I counted two more dead orcs. I turned the corner.

The trail of corpses stopped. At the end was the dead warlock, his body lay against the wall. His eyes were wide open, frozen in shock. My guess is he didn’t anticipate meeting his end here.

In one hand he clutched a dagger. Lying beside him was the infernal stone. It was pulsing brightly now. Streams of light wisped from it to another dead orc. To something below, it.

I ran forward. In the orc’s hand was a tiny girl. Her skin was pale. Her eyes closed. I feared the worse.

I checked her breath. I sighed in relief. It was weak but she was still alive.

“Don’t worry we’ll get you out of this,” I said. I drew a seal with my hands. Light flowed, the barrier flashing into existence around the girl. The streams of light were cut off, blocked from their source of energy.

Then I turned toward the infernal stone. The green thing pulsed with fel energy. Countless innocents had probably died to fuel this nightmarish thing. Countless more would die when it would be unleashed.

It was evil. It had to be destroyed.

A sword wouldn’t do. I didn’t have the innate physical strength of a warrior. I needed a blunt instrument. I dropped the sword and held the shield with both hands up high.

I slammed it into the stone. A small crack formed. I slammed down again. The crack grew larger.

“Wait! Lad Wait! Don’t-” I heard Bluebeard yell. I slammed harder, into the crack. The stone split in two. A beam of fel energy shot upwards like a geyser, dissipating into nothingness. I stepped away, avoiding it.

After a few moments, the beam exhausted itself. Final green wisps puffed out, and the stone turned black. The sense of dread vanished.

“I had to destroy it,” I told Bluebeard.

“That’s besides the point. I just realized what was bugging me. Troggs don’t just leave dead bodies. Not unless something compels them. Whatever that cursed stone was doing is probably the only reason the girl was left-.

He was cut off by a high-pitched shriek. It was followed by another. Then another. Then another.

“We need to leave now!” he said. I didn’t waste words. With the infernal stone gone, there was nothing keeping the troggs out. I sheathed my sword and whisked up the girl in one hand. We ran.

The howling and shrieking continued. It echoed through the hallway. I could hear the thumps of feet getting closer and closer. 

We squeezed through the opening. “Help me close it!” Bluebeard yelled and pressed against the stone door. I followed suit, bracing my shield against it. We pushed. The door creaked and slowly slid.

“Harder! Put your back into it!” Bluebeard yelled. I pushed harder, straining my muscles to the brink of failure. The door slid faster until the opening was too small for anything to get through.

Bluebeard ran to the edge of the door. He took out his axes and wedged them into the bottom of the hinge. Moments later, something slammed against the other side. It yelped, then shrieked, then started pounding against the door.

“Go!” Bluebeard yelled. We started running again.

I heard more and more of them slam against the door.

I glanced back. Hundreds of paws were sticking out of the small opening. They clawed away at the air. The door began to budge. Ever so slowly.

I turned around and followed Bluebeard back up. I didn’t know how long the door would hold and I did not intend to stay long enough to find out.

Even with the troggs on our back our ascent was slow. My armor was weighing me down and I was also carrying the girl. I started to wheeze. Bluebeard stopped.

He tossed the stone tablet aside. “We need to keep going. We can’t fight those things. Not with our numbers. I’ll carry her,” he said. I passed him the sleeping child.

Then we heard a loud crash as the door gave way. It gave a jolt of desperate energy to our steps.

The tunnel suddenly opened up and I stumbled and nearly tripped over the cliffside. Bluebeard grabbed me and pulled me back. I got a glance over the abyss. It was a long way down.

We started across the bridge. I could hear the howls and shrieks grow louder and louder.

Halfway through the bridge there was a scream. They were right behind us.

I turned and came face to face with a trogg leaping toward me. Its eyes were wide. Its mouth open wide with sharp, yellow teeth.

I turned and raised my shield. The thing smashed against it with enough force to nearly knock me backwards.

I regained my balance, pushed it off, then slammed it aside with the shield. The trogg screamed as it tumbled off the bridge.

Two more troggs were running right towards me.

The first one leaped. I raised my shield, catching it then threw it off the bridge. The second one just charged at me with swinging claws. I unsheathed my sword, and lunged forward. The sword shot through its belly, cutting its charge short. It coughed, spitting spittle and blood.

I tried to kick it off the sword. The blade must have caught a rib because, the thing just hung there. I tried to shake it off, which gave enough time for the trogg behind it to swipe my sword out of my hand. My grip failed and the weapon went tumbling off the bridge.

“Damn it!” I yelled. I barely had time to react as another one smashed into my shield. Then another one, and another. They grabbed the edges, holding on tight, dragging my arm and the rest of me to the ground.

I quickly undid the strap on my arm. The shield flew away. The troggs shrieked in victory, their yells cut short as my gauntleted fist pummeled the first one in the face.

More troggs poured through. They lunged. I drew the gesture for the barrier seal in the air. Light flashed in the cavern as my barrier formed. The things screamed, blinded by the sudden flash, right before smashing against it.

The barrier illuminated the cavern. I could see hundreds of the creatures pouring through the tunnel. It was like an endless sea. I realized this was what Bluebeard meant.

The troggs started to pile up against the barrier. I raised my other arm, and poured more energy into the seal, trying to keep it from breaking.

The seething mass of gray fur, clawed, bit, and punched. Trying to find a way through.

“Lad!” I heard from behind.

He stood there, girl in both arms, a look of mixed horror and concern.

I struggled as the barrier drew more energy to replenish itself. 

“Leave!” I yelled.

“Lad- I,” he said.

“Leave! That’s an order!”

It was over. I knew it. He knew it. His expression shifted to pain then sorrow.

“Light be with you lad,” he said, the sarcastic edge usually in his voice gone. He turned then ran.

I faced my opponents. Cracks formed along the barrier’s surface. I could see my mana levels drop. 40%... 32%... The troggs kept piling up. Howling. Shrieking.

I kept holding. I needed to until he made it to the other side.

I moved one hand, in the form of a new seal. It required one to intentionally put oneself in harm’s way. It was rarely used because most paladins only ever used it once, usually right before they met a heroic end.

I remembered growing up, listening to stories of old heroes. Of Thoradin who united the human tribes into the first Kingdom, of Anduin Lothar who began the counterattack against the Horde, and of Turalyon who ended the Second War. All of them champions of humanity. Paladins of the Silver Hand were taught the greatest good was to emulate them, to live like them, and to end our lives like them.

More cracks appeared. The screaming mass of flash seemed to get stronger with each second.

I didn’t believe in heroic endings. Not anymore. I didn’t fight through the wars against the Horde but I did live to see its aftermath. It was why I hated crying children. It reminded me of all the orphans left behind, of parents grieving for fallen sons and daughters, of war widows who would never see their spouses again. Things all those heroic tales I listened to conveniently forgot to mention.

I didn’t believe in heroic endings and that was why I wanted to go home. Katrina lost her brother when Stormwind was sacked. Aunt Tiana lost her parents when the orcs raided Northshire. Her sister joined the Alliance as a priestess and perished in battle. All she left Aunt Tiana was a baby boy born out of wedlock. Now her only family.

The wars robbed my aunt of everyone she loved. It was why she cried when I told her I volunteered to become a paladin. It was why she made me promise to not be a hero and return home.

Now it was just another broken promise.

My hands stopped moving as I completed Seal 4: Reckoning. The barrier burst. The troggs lunged forward in a wave of gray flesh. Light energy flowed from my core into my fist.

I looked back one last time. Bluebeard had reached the end of the bridge. The girl safely tucked in his arms. Some of the troggs trampled around me and ran after them. The creatures would never make it.

At least one promise would be kept today.

They bit and scratched and tore at my armor. The physical energy of their assault amplified the light energy in my hand. I fell, my fist hurtling in one final strike to the ground.

There was a flash of light as the ground shattered from the impact. Cracks rippled out and grew until the bridge crumbled. The troggs fell, tumbling into the abyss, howling and screaming.

I fell with them.

As I did, I thought of Northshire. Green plains and farmland. A little lake and stream that fed acres of farmland. Always temperate, just enough rain, and just enough sun.

I thought of faces I would never see again. Of Brother Sammuel who kept me out of trouble, of stuck-up Milly who got me in trouble, of scowling Marshall Mcbride who would let me off easy.

I thought of Katrina. She ran the family farm, keeping food on the table, the laborers paid and working, and running circles around swindlers who saw a young woman as easy prey. She stayed strong even as her father drank himself into oblivion while her mother lived like a pauper in the abbey, begging the light to return her son. I thought of the ring I had for her back at the main camp. 

I thought of a little house set to the north. Once a family lived there. Now only a single aging woman. She had brown hair that was starting to gray. She smelled like peacebloom, silverleaf, earthroot, and a hundred other herbs. Aunt Tiana still stood by the house, tending to business, tall and confident, even when the world took everything from her. 

“Forgive me…,” I whispered as everything faded into darkness.


	7. Lost

**_“I regained consciousness when Sergeant Bluebeard appeared from the tunnel, the girl in hand. I verbally reprimanded him for being a willing accomplice to Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood’s unauthorized expedition. Sergeant Bluebeard was charged with his fifth disciplinary hearing under my tenure. (Filed as his 698 th grievance under his permanent career record). I then Sergeant Bluebeard as to why Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood was not present.”_ **

**_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_ **

The first thing I heard when I woke was a mumble.

The next thing I noticed was that everything was dark, and finally that everything hurt. Someone or something was pinching against my chest. It was hard to breathe.

However, the pain brought clarity to my thoughts. I started to remember what happened. The tunnels. The bridge. The last thing I saw. Crumbling stone and screaming troggs. Falling into the abyss.

Was I dead?

This certainly wasn’t how I imagined the afterlife. The Church of the Light said all who proved themselves would become one with the Light upon death, living in eternal splendor and contentment. Those who did not were damned into the horrible chasm known as the twisting nether, where souls would wail and languish in eternity.

The mumble changed into an incomprehensible chirp. It sounded like…someone trying to say something? I couldn’t make sense of the words. 

At the moment, it didn’t feel quite like eternal damnation or eternal bliss. I certainly still had a body. I couldn’t see worth a damn but I could feel that I was laying on some… rocky slope. The pinch in my chest was getting worse. I moved my hands over my chest. It felt like…armor?

I was still wearing my armor. I was still alive. How did I survive the fall?

I could feel the dent in the chestplate. That was the cause of the pain, my armor must have been caved in during the fall. My sense of smell began to return. I could smell something…something foul. I turned my head.

That was a mistake. Even in the dark I could recognize the outline of the dead trogg’s face. The sudden appearance made me involuntarily breathe, deeply. I got a mouthful of something that resembled cow manure and old sweat.

It was too much. I flipped to the side, and emptied the contents of my stomach.

I was alive. Yes, I just swallowed the equivalent of a mouthful of cow manure but I was still alive.

The pain in my chest was unbearable now. I reached to my sides. There were release straps under there. I couldn’t reach it with my gauntlets on, so I removed them. The metal gloves fell with a clank. I tried again and pulled the leather loose. My chest and shoulder plates came undone and fell free.

The pain vanished. I gasped. I could taste the musky cave air. I was still in the tunnels.

How long had it been? Did Bluebeard make it out? Where was I?

The chirping started to morph. It started to resemble words that made sense. 

**“--lyzing lan----, Analyz--- lang----**.”

“Is there anyone there?” I asked.

**“Linguistic analysis complete….”** I heard in a monotone voice.

“Who… Who are you?” I asked. I still couldn’t see anything. I tried to call the light energy to illuminate… wherever I was. I raised my hand. There was a flash of light that sputtered out immediately. I saw a lot of rubble, dead troggs, and furniture? I also noticed I was in what appeared to be a room, the ceiling completely gone.

I tried to tug more energy from my core, to reignite the light. No luck. I was dry. My last seal must have completely drained me. I should have expected it. I didn’t expect to live through this. It was going to take hours until I recovered enough energy for even a simple light.

**“Unauthorized lifeform detected…analyzing… Lifeform analyzed… Titan hereditary detected… communication authorized…** ,” it said in the monotone unfeeling voice. It was eerie.

“Hello?” I asked again. I searched the ground and picked up a rock. I held it up like a small pummel. I wasn’t sure if it would help, but having even a simple weapon made me feel safe. I had no idea if the thing was a threat an ally or neither.

I couldn’t even figure out where it was coming from. Every time it spoke, the voice seemed to come from… everywhere.

**“Salutations lifeform. You are speaking with a construct of the Titan Lorekeeper Beldaron. Requesting identification…**

“A wha-… what do you mean?” I asked. I remembered Bluebeard mentioning the Titans… usually every time he cursed or complained. He used it in same vein as the word ancestor. From what I remembered he said they were the ancient predecessors of the dwarves.

**“Analyzing…Bluebeard identified as dwarf…earthen variant…your analysis would be a correct yet imprecise definition of Titan,”** the thing said.

“Wait, how did you know that?” I asked. I didn’t say a single word. Was it reading my mind?

**“An accurate description. My current location prevents direct physical feedback…We are currently conversing through mental channels…Requesting identification,”** it asked.

“Wait, you are in my head!?” I asked.

**“Negative. I am not physically or mentally present in your being or non-corporeal being… conducting translation…the word ‘spirit medium’ would be the closest fit…Requesting identification,”** it said.

I stood still, absorbing the whole situation. I had just somehow survived a fall from a height that should have killed me, and now I was talking to a voice in my head. I must have gone mad.

**“Negative…I observed the integrity of your non-corporeal self…no abnormalities detected…Requesting identif-,**

“Wait, stop, stop, stop. Stop reading my mind!” I yelled.

**“Recommending unauthorized lifeform to lower volume of physical feedback…local aberrations are deceased yet more are likely present…unwanted attention ill-advised…Requesting identification,”** it said.

Did the thing just tell me to shut up?

**“Crude description but accurate interpretation… Requesting identification,”** it said.

I sighed. The thing kept asking me to identify myself. I had a feeling it was going to keep doing until I obliged.

“I am Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, and please stop reading my thoughts. It is unnerving. Um, I have some questions,” I whispered.

**“Request accepted…This construct will refrain from reading your mental stimuli… Identification accepted… Salutations Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood… awaiting input** ,” it said.

I relaxed a bit. I took that to mean I was clear to ask. 

“Who are you and where am I?” I asked.

**“I am a construct, a copy, of the original Titan Lorekeeper Deldaron. My purpose is to retain knowledge in my memory banks for storage and safekeeping. You are currently located in the lower regions of facility Uldaman. Structural integrity of this portion has decayed 7000 cycles ago. I was notified by current operational room sensors of the sudden descent of debris and aberrations. I believe you refer to them as troggs… Your descent was abnormal. You have been identified as not a threat, hence why communication channels have been opened,”** it said.

That was a lot to process, and made no sense to me. The last part however, did. “Abnormal? In what way?” I asked.

**“The aberrations fell at a velocity commensurate with maximum terminal levels according to the density of the local atmosphere. Velocity at that range was fatal to aberrations. You maintained a steady velocity well below terminal levels. Once you regained consciousness, I attempted to interface with you,”** it replied.

“Can you say that… in something less confusing?” I asked.

**“Processing request… translating... the troggs fell fast, you fell slowly, I woke you up,”** it replied.

Why would I fall slow… Then I realized. I reached to a pouch in my belt. I felt the familiar soft shape. The slow-fall feather! I forgot I had it on. I would have to thank Alamere for reminding me to bring it before we left main camp.

If I ever saw him again. I needed to get out of here.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” I asked.

**“Processing… Error… request unspecified,” it responded.**

“Wait what do you mean?” I asked.

**“Request unspecified… requires clarification,” it responded.**

I sighed in frustration. Talking to this Lorekeeper was like talking to a gnome. Singlepipe and I rarely had conversations for this reason. He didn’t understand common phrases, and always needed specifics.

“Is there a pathway that leads to the surface,” I asked sighing again. Then I quickly added.

“In such a way that will not result in my own mutilation, decapitation, or destruction such as the loss of my life, limb, hearing, eyesight, or any functional senses?” If he was like a gnome, as his strange vocabulary suggested, then caution was always advised whenever asking for help.

There was a brief silence. I think it was contemplating my request.

 **“Yes,”** it responded.

“Can you lead me to it?” I asked, my voice rising with hope.

 **“Yes. however, I have a request,”** it replied.

Always a catch. So be it. Aunt Tiana taught me that a deal should always be fair.

“Alright. What is your request?” I asked.

 **“When this facility collapsed, my physical drive was present…Protocols require that my drive be relocated to the facility mainframe and reintegrate with Keeper Archaedeas… I currently lack sufficient motor capabilities to carry out this protocol. My physical drive is small enough that an earthen would be able to lift it with one hand,”** it said.

“So… you just need me to move you from here to this ‘mainframe’… right?” I asked.

“ **Correct** ,” Lorekeeper Delganon replied.

Well that sounded easy enough.

“Okay. You have a deal. I get you to… whatever this ‘mainframe’ is, and you tell me how to get out of here. Easy. Now how am I supposed to find you?” I asked.

 **“My physical drive is an object consisting of densely packed minerals,”** it said.

“So… a rock?” I asked.

 **“An accurate description of the physical nature,** ” it replied.

Well that helped narrow it down. All I saw during the brief flash of light were rocks on the ground. Not like it mattered since I still couldn’t see worth a damn.

Then I felt something tugging at my belt. It was the torch! I pulled it out along with some flint and tinder in a survival kit I had in another pouch. With a few sparks I got the torch lit. The dim red light came back into being, illuminating the ground around me.

Well that took care of one problem.

“Is there anything else you could tell me about your physical drive? Like a shape? Patterns?” I asked.

 **“The shape is in the form of a circle. The surface should be smooth,”** it responded.

So a smooth rock shaped disc. I started searching. The room was big enough to be the common area for a large tavern. His description wasn’t that helpful but it would narrow down the search. I began to walk around. 

I noticed several things. Everything was made of some type of stone that was immensely sleek. There were incredibly precise designs on the walls. I had never seen such perfect circles or squares even in elven or dwarven architecture. Besides that, the rest of the room was littered with shelves, whatever contents they held long gone.

Something glimmered, reflected the light of my torch. I stepped toward it and took a closer look. It was Captain Falmore’s sword.

**“Have you discovered my physical drive?”** Lorekeeper Deldaron asked.

“No, not yet. I found something useful though,” I said. “Didn’t you agree not to read my thoughts?”

**“Apologies… It has been 4000 cycles since this construct has last interacted with another sentient being,”** it replied.

Well at least whatever I interacted with manners. The sword was standing up, still stuck in the dead trogg. I grabbed the hilt and with some effort, got it free. The weapon was still slick with blood. It wasn’t my ideal weapon but it was better than nothing. Hopefully it would serve me better the next time. I resumed looking.

I was also curious about the being that I spoke, and its odd choice of words.

“That was the second time you mentioned cycles. I’m not familiar with the term. Care to explain?” I asked.

**“Certainly. Such questions are within my parameters. A cycle represents a single revolution of this planetary being around its solar parent,”** it responded.

I thought about the implications of what he said. I think the oldest elf to ever live had lived up to 400 years. 4000 revolutions… I remembered from the basic astrology and navigation class… that was 4000 years. This thing had been left alone for almost ten-fold the time of the longest living elf I knew. I actually felt bad for… whatever it was. That was a long time to be left alone without talking to anyone.

I resisted the urge to ask more questions. I had to escape, get out of here. I made a quick promise to myself to not partake in anymore crazy endeavors. Don’t be a hero. Get out, have a hot bath, return to Northshire, live a peaceful life.

I continued searching through the ruins. Then I came across something that resembled a disc. It was smooth and part of it was poking out of the rubble.

“I think I found it,” I said.

**“Analyzing…Physical feedback detected…Sensory module obstructed… This construct requests you remove the obstruction,”** it asked.

I walked towards it and picked it out of the rocks. The disc was covered in dust, and I swept it clean with a hand.

Then the disc lit up with blue light. I shut my eyes from the sudden flash.

“Hey!” I yelped.

**“Obstructions removed… analyzing organism… corruption present… 20%.... within reasonable margins…. Conducting full physical scan… Strength: 31, Agility 28, Stamina 32, Spirit 33, Intelligence 30… aptitude for cosmic force detected….,”** it spouted off.

“Could you warn me before doing something like that?” I asked. My eyes still hurt.

**“Apologies… This construct was unaware of the sensitivity of your peripheral organs,”** it replied.

I took back whatever I said about the thing having manners. This thing was reminding me of Singlepipe with each second, always poking and prodding in places that weren’t his own business. I reopened my eyes. The blue light was flickering vividly, it flicked faster and faster until it shined continuously. Then a figure took shape above the disc.

**“Greetings! I have created a projection to better relate to your organic faculties,”** Lorekeeper Deldaron said.

Well what did you know. It was a gnome. Well not really. The projection looked like the result of a gnome built by a gnome. It had a mettalic body and odd synthetic eyes. It even had a metal mustache.

“You’re a gnome?” I asked.

 **“Incorrect…This construct is merely an automaton that has been imprinted from the original Lorekeeper, a titan watcher…it has found the mechano-gnomish structure is far more visibly appealing and appropriate so it identifies as such,”** it replied.

Great. I was talking to an ancient dwarven precursor construct that identified as gnome. In my head. If this wasn’t a result of me losing my mind, it was turning out to be one wild story I would never be able to live down.

“And what was that you said at the end?” I asked.

**“This construct was conducting a full scan of your corporeal and non-corporeal forms… corruption levels within reason, however recommending corrective action…cause identified as ‘curse of flesh’… I recommend you return to a re-processing plant for immediate dismemberment and purification,”** it said.

“Thanks… but I’ll be fine,” I replied. I wasn’t so sure what Lorekeeper Deldaron meant by corruption but I had a feeling it meant something far differently than what I had imagined. I didn’t see how flesh was a curse, and I was a paladin after all. Highly doubt corruption meshed with being able to wield the holy light. I also had no intention of going to this “re-processing plant”. Especially if it involved dismemberment.

“And that part about strength? Agility? Cosmic aptitude?” I asked.

**“Biological capabilities…Cosmic aptitude refers to your capability to utilize cosmic force…translating…light energy,”** it replied.

I wanted to ask more questions but it was time to focus on the task at hand.

“Alright give me a moment, let me get prepared before we depart,” I said.

**“Acknowledged…,”** Lorekeeper Deldarron responded and the projection vanished.

I laid out everything I had in my four belt pouches. I had no idea what would happen once we left and I wanted to know what I had available.

1 mithril officer’s knife. The metal was as light as wood yet twice as strong as steel. That would come in handy. Flint and Steel Kit. Four empty potion vials that were cracked. Seven hearthstone pebbles. Some rolls of parchment with a pen. One blue mana vial. Two small muffins that Alamere had conjured a week ago.

I left the empty potion vials on the ground. I clenched myself before popping open the mana vial. This wasn’t going to be pleasant; it was my third vial of the day. I quickly drank the contents. I felt the same alcoholic aftertaste, but now there was a horrible churning feeling in my stomach. I lurched forward, coughing. Symptoms of potion-overdose. I had little choice though. I needed all the energy before going forward.

I grabbed a muffin and chewed, trying to eat something to keep the potion down. It was tasteless, tough, and did not at all taste pleasant. I was not surprised. Alamere always did a half-hearted job when it came to conjuring food from whatever materials he used. I am pretty sure it was sand this time, judging by the grainy texture of the bread. Bluebeard always provided not-so-helpful-or-nice comments on the results of his work which only made the elf defensive and spiteful. The end result being the rest of us had to stomach whatever food was made. 

I swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling that I was digesting bits of rock and ate the other muffin. Time passed and the pain went away. I took a look at my mana gauge. The blue bar read 35%.

Then I scribbled out a note on a piece of parchment. A letter stating, I was still alive. I tied it up, put a hearthstone next to it, then let a bit of light energy flow into the stone.

Nothing happened.

“Why isn’t it working?” I whispered to myself.

**“There is currently an arcane barrier surrounding this complex. It remains active and is preventing the use of unauthorized portal connections,”** Lorekeeper Deldaroon said.

“So it is interfering with the hearthstone?” I asked.

**“Correct. The stone is attempting to open a portal. Access is being negated by the barrier,”** it replied.

Great… I was cut off from the outside world. That means I had no way of letting the others know I was still alive.

I stood up. It was time to go. “I am ready. So how do we get to where you need to go?” I asked.

Lorekeeper Deldaron’s projection reappeared.

**“The mainframe is located down this hallway. I shall provide directions,”** it said then it pointed to a wall.

Looking closely, I realized it wasn’t a wall but a door. The edges of it had faded away with time. I put my hand against it and lightly pushed.

It fell to the ground with a loud crash then splintered into pieces. Whoops, I guess time had taken its toll.

**“I recommend avoiding unnecessary audio feedback…**

“I got it. I got it. I’ll keep it quiet,” I whispered.

We walked into the hallway ahead. One arm held up the dim red light torch. The other arm held the stone disc. Lorekeeper Deldaron’s projection stood to my right.

We came an intersection. I noticed something familiar lining one of the corners. Small black sprouts with a light top. It reminded me of something I had seen in Aunt Tiana’s herbalism books. I took a closer look and recognized it for what it was.

Ghost Mushrooms. They were rare in supply, mostly because they grew in deep caves which were usually inhabited by relatively unfriendly creatures. Herb farmers hoarded them because of how valuable they were for potions. I knew at least two recipes one could make with just those, some water, and a fire. Aunt Tiana always wanted some to start her own farm.

**“Are you well?”** Lorekeeper Deldaron asked.

“Yes. Hold one moment,” I said. I moved forward to collect the mushrooms.

**“I do not understand the purpose of your efforts… ,”** it said.

“Just hold on,” I replied. I took out my mithril officer’s knife and started to cut away. There were five mushrooms. They fell off the stalks and into my hands. I put them away in the empty potion pouch. A little present when I got back to Northshire.

We continued on, Lorekeeper Deldaron would point the way every time we came to another intersection.

The hallways were similar to the one Bluebeard and I had passed through. These however, were sized to normal proportions. It made me wonder what sort of being or beings originally wandered the halls.

“How many ye- cycles ago was this place built?” I asked.

**“64,000 cycles based on my memory banks,”** Lorekeeper Deldaron said.

64,000 years!? If what it said were true, this place was truly ancient. The historians back at the capital would have a field day if they were here. The dwarves definitely would. Maybe the discovery would be enough to not get me in too much trouble once I got back to the main camp.

Everything was quiet save for the sound of my boots. I decided to pass the time by whispering some questions. 

“You mentioned you were a construct…a copy of the original Lorekeeper correct?” I asked.

**“Yes,”** it replied.

“Where is he, or she, now?” I asked.

**“The original Lorekeeper’s whereabouts are unknown. I do not possess sufficient information in my memory banks. Although there may be information available once we reach the mainframe,”** it replied.

“And the Lorekeeper was a Titan? Were they dwarves?” I asked.

**“Incorrect. Dwarves are a derivation of the original earthen. A titan creation. Like yourself,”** it replied.

“Wait so the Titans made the dwarves? And humans? Who were the titans?” I asked.

“ **Yes. The Titans are the makers. I do not possess sufficient information in my memory banks to answer your remaining questions. This may be rectified once we reach the mainframe,”** it replied.

For someone who was supposed to hold knowledge, he didn’t seem to know very much .

The hallway stopped in front of a door.

**“The mainframe can be found through that passage,”** Lorekeeper Deldarron said.

I placed a hand on the door. I checked the hinges this time. It looked sturdy enough. I still had to be careful. I placed a hand and applied some slight pressure. The door creaked open.

The space inside was completely dark and void of light, save my flickering torch. I could feel a sense of nothingness and openness so I knew this place was far larger than a normal room. After a while I was hit with a sudden rank stench in the air. I walked a good distance in when my foot nearly kicked a trogg.

It was definitely a trogg. The creature was lying down face-up. Its eyes were closed and it made a soft purring sound as it breathed in and out. I waved my torch around then saw more sleeping by pillars or resting against the wall. This was no room. It was a cavern and it was infested with them.

**“This construct has detected multiple aberrations in the vicinity…current calculation at 36…45..** ,” Lorekeeper Deldarron said.

I didn’t say anything and I really did not want to know how many of those things were in here. I was not going to wake these things up.

I stepped back. Slowly, trying not to make a sound. I squeezed back through the door and out.

**“This facility is currently contaminated with aberrations…caution is advised,”** Lorekeeper Deldarron said.

“You could have warned me before I stepped on one. Is there any other way to the mainframe?” I asked.

**“There is a detour. However, it will take significantly more time,”** Lorekeeper Deldarron responded.

“Yes… lets,” I said.

I looked at the door and decided to close it. Even at a whisper my voice echoed down the halls. I did not feel the need to wake those things up.

I pushed it shut. There was a cracking sound, then the hinge crumbled and the door fell. The crash of stone upon stone reverberated through the hallways.

At that moment, I briefly dwelled on whether or not some mighty being hated my guts.

I didn’t dwell on this too long because I could hear the familiar noise of a pack of angry half-naked troggs being woken up. I ran.

**“I have detected multiple…,”** Lorekeeper Deldaron started. “I know! I know!” I interrupted.

I started running. The noise turned to howls. I could hear the familiar thumping of feet.

**“I must not fall into the hands of the aberrations…. The aberrations will cause irreversible damage to the physical disc of this construct,”** it said. Great, at least we were agreed on that particular subject. I certainly didn’t want to imagine what the troggs would do to me. I saw the bite marks on the orcs. They did not seem to die pleasantly. I kept running.

**“I have detected you will not outrun the lifeforms at your current physical capabilities… I will recommend an alternate course of action,”** it said.

“Really?! Please explain!” I said. I kept running.

**“Follow my instructions at the next intersection,”** it said.

I followed. I could hear the troggs on my back. I had no idea where I was going and hopefully neither did the troggs. I wasn’t going to put that theory to the test by stopping anytime soon though.

Then we came to another door. This time I just pushed through. It fell like all the others in a heap of debris.

In the room were an assortment of artifacts and things I couldn’t recognize. Staves shaped in strange shapes. Piles of armor. There was something however standing in the center. It was a large mirror.

“Okay. Now what?” I huffed.

**“My memory banks indicate this room used to serve as an ancient Titan proto-transport device. The device in question is currently located in the center. It has been deactivated but remains functional,”** it said.

“Great! So, it is some type of portal? Where does it lead? Because the last thing I want is to be teleported into the middle of a pack of troggs or light-knows where else!” I huffed.

**“The device has not been used in 13,000 cycles. I do not possess sufficient information in my memory banks to-,”**

The screaming got louder. I could see shadows dancing from the hallway.

“Just tell me how to use it!” I yelled.

**“Sufficient physical force should activate the device for a single use,”** it said.

In a different time, I would have contemplated the sanity of jumping through a supposed ancient portal without knowing where it led. I heard stories of mages testing out their portals, landing in the middle of the ocean or the top of a mountain. These weren’t ordinary times. Quite desperate I would say, and as the old saying goes, desperate times called for desperate measures.

I took a deep breath, charged, and jumped toward the mirror.


	8. Thedas

**_“_**

**_“The first patrol team arrived in hours. Magister Sunwaker, the two abducted children, and I were recovered from the battle site to be treated for injuries. Two more patrol teams arrived soon after, in response to my emergency request. Sergeant Bluebeard led them down the tunnels to search for Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. They were unfortunately rebuffed due to a trogg outbreak. After several hours, all retrieval efforts were ceased and all patrol teams were recalled for an emergency deployment to the Kingdom of Lordearon. Rumors are that it is due to some type of plague outbreak near Stratholme._ **

**_A ceremony will be held to award Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood posthumously the Medal of Tyr for his bravery. His personal effects were gathered, secured, and packaged. I will be delivering the package to Northshire after the ceremony’s conclusion. They will be surrendered to his last-known relative, Tiana Riverwood. She will also receive a writ of pension from the treasury as financial compensation and an invitation to the official inscription of his name on the wall of heroes in Stormwind._ **

**_Details from the morning’s route reconnaissance are omitted as Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood had the possession of the records at the moment of his disappearance. This concludes the day’s report._ **

**_\- From Patrol Report. Year 3000, 5 th day of BloomingTide. Captain Elric Falmore_ **

The first thing I felt after hitting the mirror was not shards of broken glass, as I expected. It was something reminiscent of water, the substance was cool and I could almost swim through it. Then there was a flash of light. My body felt like it was being stretched and then pulled in multiple directions. Next thing I knew, I was floating. There was this blue fog everywhere. Below, I could see trees, except they weren’t. The branches were too wide, the color was a dull metallic gray, and they sat atop a bed of stone. Beside them were rows and rows of mirrors, just like the one I went through.

Then suddenly I felt myself being jerked up. I started to move, faster and faster until everything became a blur.

I was moving so fast I couldn’t think straight. I could feel the muffins coming back up from my stomach. Then the blur materialized into a wall and I flew out onto some stony surface. I tumbled down what felt like a set of stairs. Finally, there was a loud boom like a cannon firing followed by the crash of glass shattering.

**“We have successfully passed through the portal. Congratulations Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. We have eluded the aberrations.”**

“Ho-,” I started, then stopped as the world seemed to keep spinning. I turned to the side, too disoriented to get up, and puked.

**“Are you stable Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood? My sensors indicate you are under severe physical duress.”**

I emptied out the last contents of my stomach, then rolled away. My view continued to spin.

“Just-Just give me a moment,” I uttered.

**“As you wish**.”

I always wondered why people rarely ever used portals. The concept just seemed so handy. I asked Alamere once, and he said unless he needed to be somewhere, he always preferred to travel by land or by bird. Now I understood why. After several heartbeats I was finally able to get up without the world spinning sideways.

There were no screaming troggs. The Lorekeeper was right. We were safe. At least for now. But where were we? It was a room, that much I was able to figure out. I was laying on top of stone. Was this another area in the caverns? That meant I’d still have to be weary of troggs. Then out of the corner of my eyes I could see beams of… light, was that sunlight? And that noise. It sounded like… trees rustling? 

“Oh blessed be the light…,” I whispered.

We weren’t in the tunnels anymore.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood are you well?”**

“Y-yes. Tell me. Do you know where we are now?”

**“Current location is unknown. As I said before, there was no data in my memory banks in regards to the destination of the portal. I am unable to gleam our location based off current navigational information,”**

I looked back, at the top of the stairs that I had fallen from. At the top was what once was a mirror. It was more a frame now, the glass was completely shattered. Almost a replica to the one that I had traveled through, except this one was adorned with carvings and statues. Two stone wolves were shaped to its sides, howling into the air.

**“The portal has been degraded beyond repair. The aberrations will not be able to follow; however, we will need to find an alternate means of travel to the main frame.”**

“Of course,” I muttered. I still had to get the thing back to the main frame, wherever it was. Then again if we were above-ground I had little to no intention of returning back to those tunnels. I’m sure there was some enterprising dwarf archeologist that would be willing to make the trip on my stead.

I turned from the broken mirror to the rest of the room. Everywhere there was odd bits of pottery with animalistic figures carved into them. Behind me was something that resembled a coffin. There were faces carved into the sides.

“Lorekeeper, do you recognize anything in this room. Anything that might indicate where we are?”

The mechanically-gnomelike projection of the Lorekeeper suddenly appeared next to me. It walked up the coffin and looked closely.

**“Scanning… Patterns do not match anything in memory banks**.”

I sighed at the supposed Lorekeeper’s lack of any lore. I decided to take a closer look. The faces didn’t resemble any kind of artstyle I was familiar with, but I did recognize the oddly pointy ears and the thin angled jaws. My guess was that it was elven. No tusks so they couldn’t be trolls and I doubted goblins cared much about pottery. The stone structure was probably a coffin so my guess was this to be an elven tomb. Elven tomb meant elven territory which meant I was somewhere up in the Eversong Woods. 

**“I have detected an anomaly with this location.”**

“What do you mean?”

**“Background energy levels are low… far lower than expected…”**

“So, is that a good thing or bad thing?”

**“Neither as of this present time. Simply a peculiar observation.”**

I took a closer look at the faces. They were distinctly elvish but the style definitely wasn’t

I suddenly recalled elves didn’t exactly bury their dead in the ground or in coffins for that matter. They set them afire and adrift on a small boat to the Great Sea. A ritual to let the spirits rejoin their ancestors in their ancient long-lost homeland of Kalimdor.

I stepped away from the coffin, then decided to lay down on the ground and breathe easy. For the first time in this very long day I didn’t feel like I was in imminent danger. I was missing all my armor from the belt up, but it was incredibly relieving to not have it weighing me down. I never did like wearing heavy plate. Thinking back, I should have joined as a priest. Far from the frontlines for the most part and if they weren’t healing patients, they were doing paperwork, or preaching sermons.

**“I have detected an unknown lifeform within your vicinity.”**

Then I saw a shadow creep through the roof of the room. It blotted out beams of light coming from the holes as it traveled along. It made a long insectile hiss. I recognized the sound, and felt the hairs crawl on my back. I recognized it from one too many trips with the local laborers in Northshire to clear out their nests in the mountains.

Spiders. Giant spiders.

The shadow passed by. I didn’t think they noticed me. Otherwise they would have started reaching through the open holes in the roof. Spiders didn’t let their prey off easy. Still, I wasn’t going to stay and wait for it come back in the event it changed its mind. My luck had not been great this day.

“We need to leave,” I said then picked up the stone disc. The gnomish projection vanished.

If we were in elven territory there was probably farstrider patrol or some town nearby. I just needed to get to one of those to get back in touch with the Alliance. After that I was home free.

When I swept the room with my eyes, I noticed a second set of stairs leading up opposite the one facing the mirror. There were no other openings in the room, so I guessed it was our only way out.

I followed up the stairs to the top, and came before a stone door. I gave it a light shove. It didn’t budge at all. The one time I needed a door to open and it didn’t. Rotten luck for sure.

I pushed a bit and felt the stone move, barely. I strained and put my back into it. Every single bruise on my body erupted in pain at that effort. I was going to need to see a healer after all the punishment I put myself through today. I dreaded the odd looks I was going to get when a paladin came to the healing tent for services.

The stone platform moved up and up until finally it fell to the side. I popped my head out the opening and gasped.

The fresh scent of the forest wafted by. I squinted at the sudden brightness of the sun. Everywhere I was surrounded by greenery. Trees and shrubs pocketed the landscape. A light breeze past by, cooling the sweat off my face. A few birds were chirping nearby. I could hear water rushing from some stream or creek nearby. It felt good to be in a forest, after months in a barren desert and several hours in dark tunnels.

I didn’t dwell too long. There was no telling when that spider would come back, and where there was one spider there was a brood. My appetite for dealing with monstrous creatures was completely full for the day. I took one step out of the tomb and ran into the forest.

There was something odd though. I spent enough time in forests all around the world as a soldier and as an herbalist to get a sense of what was what. First, there was no peace blossoms anywhere. They literally grew everywhere and I couldn’t see a single one on the ground. There was also something off about the trees. They gnarled in a way that I was not familiar with.

I also noticed a gray owl with red streaked feathers, perched on a branch up ahead with a pair of horns poking out of its head. It stared at me with bright yellow eyes, following each step I made.

Even the animals were disconcerting.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, there are more lifeforms approaching your location. Recommend caution.”**

“What?” I asked and stopped. “Where?”

 **“West of your current location.”**.

“How am I supposed to know where west is?”

**“Translating… left from your current direction,”**

Damn it. I couldn’t see anything. One too many trees and bushes around. Whatever it was, I didn’t know if it was a farstrider patrol, troll raiding party, or something else. I had no intention of letting it find me first though. 

There was a tree large enough to hide my bulk to the left. I dashed behind it, opposite the direction that the Lorekeeper pointed. I reached for the hilt of my sword, in the event of unpleasant company.

I heard the crackle of branches and shifting grass. The noises grew louder and closer. Voices speaking in elvish.

_“I-I don’t like this,”_ a female voice squeaked. _“Lyna, we should go back to the camp. Let the keepers know.”_

_“Merrill, quit your whining,”_ I heard another female voice reply. “ _You heard that noise, didn’t you? It definitely came from the old tomb that Mithra mentioned was out here. Something happened. We need to investigate.”_

“ _I’m all for adventure but are you sure about this Lyna?”_ said a male voice. _“I think we should let Keeper Maretheri and Zathrian know. They would probably have a better idea.”_

 _“Tamlen,”_ the female voice of the one known as Lyna replied. _“You’re not scared are you?”_

 _“No!”_ he exclaimed. _“Of course not! Its just that… the forest up here just doesn’t feel right. Besides! We’re just visiting and I think Keeper Zathrian should know since it is by his clan camp. I’m not scared though.”_

“If there is nothing to be scared of then there is no reason not to investigate is there Lethalin?” the female voice said. _“Besides, we are all Dalish. It is our job to safeguard our people’s history.”_

There was a sigh. _“Okay Lethallan.”_

I heard the three of them pass on the other side of the tree. I shifted, getting a look.

They wore what looked like plain brown leather jerkins and boots. One had fur shoulder-guards and a lightly colored cloth jerkin. They were armed. One of the females and the male had bows. The other female carried a staff. Two hunters and a mage. I didn’t see any of the hunter’s companions. The animals were probably somewhere nearby. They looked young although most elves had ages that were indistinguishable.

For elves these were remarkably peculiar outfits. This was the first time I’ve seen an elf where anything cheaper than silk. Farstrider scouts wore a mix of expensive mageweave cloth and mithril chainmail.

Bits of their language made no sense. I had no idea what Keeper or Lethallan or Lethallin stood for. Probably some obscure and special elvish title. Was Dalish the name of a famous clan? Elvish history was always convoluted. They were also most certainly young, inexperienced, or both. Did elves stop aging at 20?

I was about to reveal myself, but hesitated. They mentioned this as the Brecillian forest, which meant it probably wasn’t Eversong. Where was I?

They stopped and crouched behind some trees.

 _“I see the tomb,”_ the one I guessed to be Lyna said. _“It looks like someone’s been in recently.”_

_“Or something,”_ said the one I guessed to be Tamlen.

 _“Scared?”_ Lyna said.

 _“No!”_ Tamlen replied.

 _“Well I’m going to take a closer look,”_ said Lyna, she took a step forward.

Whether or not these elves were friendly I couldn’t just let them walk toward the spiders. The creatures weren’t visible but I knew they were around.

 _“Hey stop!”_ I yelled in elvish, stepping away from the tree. _“Don’t go any further!”_

The three turned around.

Then the elven mannerisms that were oh-so forcefully ingrained kicked in. I lightly bowed with one hand over my chest the other behind my back, “ _Hello. I am Knight-Lieutenant Eratus Riverwood of the Alliance. I am looking for…,”_

When I brought my head up the all three had their weapons trained on me. Great.

_“Quiet shem!”_ Lyna said. “ _What are you doing on Dalish lands!”_

_“It is obvious,”_ said Tamlen. _“I mean look at what he is wearing. Plate leggings. Fancy sword. That disc must be some ancestral artifact no doubt. He is obviously trying to wear off what he has stolen.”_

I became conscious of my outfit. My Alliance tabard was wrapped around my breastplate which was sitting abandoned back in the caverns. At the moment, I probably looked like a bandit.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Eratus. I am detecting hostile intent from the lifeforms.”**

_“You speak elvish?”_ Merill asked.

“ _Why yes!”_ I said. _“I learned from Magister Whisperwind at the city of Stor-,”_ I stopped talking as an arrow flew by my face.

_“You,”_ said the one known as Lyna. _“Don’t talk unless you want an arrow through your head,”_ She knocked another arrow _. “And Merill shut up!”_

_“Sorry!”_ Merrill replied.

_“What are you doing here?”_ , Lyna asked.

_“Wait, believe me,”_ I said. _“I know this doesn’t look right but I am not a graverobber or bandit. I am from the Alliance. I assure you, I did not mean to intrude upon your lands. It was purely unintentional.”_

_“Are you stupid?”_ Tamlen said. “ _How does one accidentally wander into an elven tomb.”_

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. So, you see an ancient talking rock convinced me to jump into a mirror, and that is how I ended up here. Oh, and I also threw up in the floor of that tomb you hold to be sacred. Yea… I had a hard time convincing myself about that one.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have also detected multiple hostile lifeforms converging on your current position,”** Lorekeeper Deldarron said.

_“Look,”_ I said. _“It’s a long story, but can we do this somewhere else? I can assure you I didn’t raid any tombs or people. There is a brood of spiders getting close.”_

_“Hah!”_ replied Tamlen. _“Nice try at bluffing. What do you think Lyna?”_

“ _He probably is trying to weasel his way out,”_ she replied. _“How about this, shem. First you are going to drop everything you have.”_

“ _That is not going to happen,”_ I said. _“These are my possessions. Look, I am an Alliance Paladin. Can’t you just point me in the direction of the nearest town and we go our separate ways? I am sure any damage can be recompensated through the Stormwind representative.”_

_“Alliance? Stormwind? Wha-?”_ Merrill asked but was cut off by the other female elf.

_“I don’t particularly care and I am not going to let a thieving shem run off with his loot,”_ said Lyna. _You have 3 seconds to strip yourself of everything save your clothes before we poke you full of arrows_.”

This was insanity. I knew elves could be stern bastards but all the ones I met so far were relatively friendly.

I glanced at the mana gauge on my wrist. 38%.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Hostile Lifeforms are rapidly converging…”**

_“Look, can’t we be reasonable?_ ” I asked. I brought the disc in front of me with one hand behind it. With the hidden hand I began to perform the motions of a barrier seal. 

“ _Three…. ,”_ she said.

The church of light’s doctrine was pretty clear as far as what I should do. I was innocent, and they were about to strike me down. Ergo, in defense of the innocent, I can retaliate in kind. As far as any political ramifications of a human paladin striking down an elf, I wasn’t too sure about that.

_“Two….”_

However, I had no plans of dying after all I had been through today. I completed the seal. Light energy flowed from my core.

 _“One…”_ She pulled the arrow back.

There was a loud hiss.

 _“Look out!”_ Tamlen said. He dropped his bow and tackled Lyna to the side.

A massive spider, its carapace the size of a barrel, flew out from the brush. It landed where the female elf once was. The creature bared its fangs. Their teeth were the size of swords and glistened with green venom.

There was another hiss as I saw another spider pop out of the brush, leaping toward me. I side-stepped away from the spider’s landing.

I freed my sword from its sheath then stabbed as the spider lunged at me. The barrier flared as the creature pinged off it while my sword cleaved through it like a hot knife through butter.

Huh? Was I always that strong? The hides of those thing were notoriously thick. Heavy weapons like axes only pierced the skin with sustained blows. All I was trying to do was prod it away with the sword. 

Instead, the sword cut deep into the spider’s body. It shrieked in agony as green ichor sprayed out of its wound. It fell to the ground, shriveling and twitching its feet as it died.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. This would be a perfect opportunity to disengage and retreat.”**

It was. More giant spiders had begun crawling towards us. All of them were going after the elves. I could easily disappear into the forest and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

The three of them were probably as good as dead. Those things were ferocious. I had no responsibility to help them. They were about to shoot me only a few moments ago. I began to turn away.

_Just leave_

Then I saw the spiders lunge; the elf mage was split from the other two as they all tried to duck away. One of the creatures scurried behind her.

“Merill!” Lyna yelled.

The elf mage looked behind her, into the spider’s open maw. Her eyes were wide and paralyzed with fear. She wasn’t going to react in time.

The spider’s fangs, bounced off a barrier of light. The creature hissed and backed away, confused by the sudden obstruction.

I had an arm raised. I think this was a new record moment that I had finished a seal so quickly.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. These lifeforms have demonstrated hostile intent. Why do you protect them?”**

“Look, I’m not sure why either,” I replied. “But I can’t just let them die here. It just-It just isn’t the way.”

So much for swearing not to do any more self-sacrificial escapades.

I raised my hand high, and let light energy gather in my hands for a few moments before releasing it. _“Close your eyes!”_ I yelled.

There was a bright flash. It was a neat little trick that all paladins were taught while learning to control light energy. Useful for blinding unsuspecting opponents and I knew spiders had sensitive eyes.

The creatures hissed in unison. They scrambled in confusion, no longer attacking in an organized manner.

This was all I needed to gain the initiative. I ran forward and shot my blade through a spider that got too close. The spider split in two. Were these spiders of an exceptionally weak variety?

“ _Y-you can use magic?_ ” the mage elf squeaked. Ichor splashed over her.

“ _Not magic! I’m a paladin! Get out of the way!_ ” I yelled as I swept past her and cleaved another spider in half. A third one managed to regain its senses and lunged toward me. I redirected the barrier to myself and the spider bounced off. I followed with a kick that sent it reeling back.

The elves focused their efforts on the spiders. We began to drive them back.

Suddenly there was a loud shriek.

A massive shadow loomed over the tomb. All of us turned to look at the newcomer. It was the brood mother.

The thing looked right at me, then shrieked revealing rows and rows of fangs. If the other spiders had the equivalent of individual swords, this one had an armory.

**“Approaching lifeform… It has appeared to have identified you as the greatest threat.”**

_“Well that’s a joy,”_ I replied.

 _“I’m taking this!”_ I yelled at the elves then brandished my sword before running toward the brood mother. If the other spiders were that weak, then the brood mother couldn’t be too hard to take down. Right?

I recharged my barrier and ran towards the thing. It lunged. The countless fangs dug into the shield, rippling across the barrier and make visible cracks.

“Shit,” I muttered. I swung, trying to strike its head. It retreated in time however, and my sword slashed through empty air.

As I charged forward and swung again, it changed tactics. It spat out several web blobs while retreating. The sticky material clung to my barrier, rooting me in place. My sword swept through thin air once more.

The giant monster then leaped. I watched it fly into the air, as high as the tallest tree in the forest before spiraling down toward me.

I pressed both hands against my barrier, channeling more light energy into it.

Two of the thing’s legs landed right on top of me. I could feel the barrier strain then crack then smooth out as I fed more light energy into it. Mana levels dropped to 18%.

Then its fangs came down. The rows of teeth punctured through the barrier and into my shoulders. I fell.

The thing kept its assault, keeping me pinned to the ground. The fangs were barely skin deep but I could feel a numbness begin to spread as the venom took effect.

Then the giant spider retreated. It screamed in agony. I saw two arrows appear on its head. Several more flew over me and landed on its carapace. I thought I saw an ice bolt among them.

In the distance, I was able to see three elves had their weapons raised.

The giant spider turned its attention toward them. It crawled over me and toward them.

“Oh no you don’t!” I yelled. I shoved my sword through its carapace as it crawled over me. The brood mother shrieked in pain then shifted to the side. I dislodged the sword and ducked under its bulk. Before it could finish turning, I slammed the sword through its rear legs. The crippled being fell to the side.

I dropped the stone disc and gripped the sword with both hands. I hacked away at the carapace, ichor flying everywhere. I poured every ounce of frustration and stress that had built up during the day into my blows. I kept hacking away, and continued long after the brood mother stopped moving.

Finally, too exhausted to continue, I dropped the sword. I couldn’t feel my arms. There was a numbness spreading through my neck. I could see the spider bites lining my upper chest. Dizziness overtook me. I lost my balance.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood I am senssgn pssiiiin thrggg…”**

I saw were the three elves running toward me before I passed out.


	9. Prisoner

**_“I am starting this journal to write my thoughts. There is a part of me that thinks I am still in the mining caverns, and that this is all some arcane trick. Maybe I have lost my mind. In the event this isn’t some bizarre illusion I wanted to begin archiving my journey in this strange world._ **

**_What led me to this predicament? Well it all started when an ancient talking stone convinced me to jump into a mirror…”_ **

  * **_From the journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



I woke up with a gnawing sensation that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

I could still smell the forest but now there was the unmistakable scent of smoke. There were voices muttering, incomprehensible and somewhere far behind me.

There was an uncomfortable weight around my neck. It wrapped around and rubbed against my skin like sandpaper. There was also something heavy wrapped around my wrist and ankles. I tried lifting an arm and heard the movement of metal chains.

I opened my eyes, everything was dark, but I could still see to an extent. The weight around my neck turned out be a long wooden block, with my head poking through a hole in the center. I had two sets of metal manacles around my ankles and wrists. I tugged again, and the chain moved until it was taut, at which point it started pulling against me. That was when I noticed more chains linked to each manacle and the corners of the wooden block. The ends were tied around the metal cage that I just realized I was in.

I was facing the forest, which was now just the black outlines of trees. There was light behind me casting shadows ahead. I tried turning in its direction, but the chains pulled me back. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see some wooden structures that looked like narrow wagons, except there were red sails on top, like one expected to see on ships. Several campfires burned in open spaces between the wagons, casting more shadows. I could see images of barrels, drying racks, and moving figures.

“What in the-,” I said.

_“Ah the shem is alive!”_ I heard someone say behind me.

I switched to elvish. _“What happened?”_ I asked. I tried to turn to face the figure, but the wooden block bit into my neck and the chains pulled me back. I tried several times, rattling the chains, and causing the metal bars to creak but they held firm.

“ _Hah! Lyna told us you were an oddly strong one. She also told us you spoke elvish. I had a hard time beliveving it but I guess she was right on both accounts. Good thing we put all that extra weight over you_ ,” the voice replied.

The fog in my head began to clear. Lyna. That was the name of one of the elves who met me out of the tomb. I had just taken down the brood mother when I fainted. There was something else tugging my torso. I felt my chest with my hands, the chains jingling with the move, and felt a cloth wrap.

_“I-I got poisoned. There were three elves there,”_ I said.

_“Oh you definitely did get poisoned. Elora said it was a miracle that you are alive. I think it’s a miracle that you took on a queen spider and not only live but nearly kill it on your own. We were about to leave you for dead, until Merrill started mouthing off. You can thank her for being alive shem,”_ he said.

Merill? That was the name of one of the elves. The timid one. The Mage.

 _“Look, I am an Alliance Paladin. There must be some mistake. Why am I locked up?”_ I asked.

I instinctively tried to channel light energy from my core. However, before the energy reached my hands, the manacles around my wrist began to glow blue and became searing hot. I felt the light energy sputter away.

“Ow!” I yelped. The bands cooled down in an instant once I stopped trying to channel light energy.

 _“Oops. Forgot Lyna told me you could use magic as well. I should have warned you. Those are lyrium bands, they’ll stop any spell you try to cast. I wouldn’t keep trying either unless you want to give yourself a nice burn. I doubt Elora would be willing to make a second trip here. She doesn’t like your kind much,”_ the voice said.

A second fire flickered into being and I saw shadow of the elf to the side of my cage. The shadow got larger until I saw the actual figure. He was holding a bowl in one hand full of gray goop and a torch in the other. He wore the same primitive leather garb the others had on.

_“And for why you’re locked up. Well we’re still trying to decide. Well, until the Keepers decide. Who knows? I rarely ever pay any attention to shem affairs,”_ he said.

_“Shem?”_ I asked.

_“You know elvish and you don’t know what shem is?”_ he replied.

Never have I ever heard the word shem used in any context before meeting these elves. _“No,”_ I replied.

 _“Well it stands for quickened children. It’s your kind. Humans,”_ he said.

I made a mental note of that. I decided to shift tactics. Maybe being polite would give me more headway.

 _“Well I’m glad I learned a new thing today,”_ I said with a light smile. _“My name is Eratus Riverwood. What would yours be my good friend?”_

The elf regarded me with a raised eye. _“Cammen, Dalish hunter,”_ he replied in kind.

“ _I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. You see, I think If I had the chance to speak with your ‘Keepers’ I should be able to explain my circumstances and we can all get behind this as some big misunderstanding,”_ I said.

He put the bowl on the side of the cage, next to what looked like a small gap through the metal poles. Then he learned over with a questioning gaze. _“Well, I have ears and I can probably pass on the message. Go on. Explain away,”_ he said.

“ _So you see…_ ,” I started. I hadn’t fully thought through what I was going to say to the Keepers. The entire stream of events that led me to this moment was pretty absurd.

The elf stood there, a skeptical look on his face.

 _“So, there was an ancient stone…”_ I couldn’t come up with a word for machine or automaton or whatever I would use to describe the being. _“an ancient Lorekeeping spirit inside a stone disc that convinced me to jump into a portal.”_

Speaking of the Lorekeeper I haven’t heard him say anything. I wondered what happened to it.

 _“Wait. You mean that rock you were carrying around?”_ he asked.

 _“Yes,”_ I replied.

There was a pause.

 _“You’re a funny one. I’ve heard some tales that start pretty tall but that was by far the tallest one I’ve heard yet. Well, I’m only supposed to deliver you dinner,”_ he said and pointed to the bowl. _“Bucket on the left is in case you need to shite or piss. I’m going to go to bed down. Stay safe out here!,”_ he said then walked away.

 _“Wait. I haven’t done anything wrong! You can’t keep me caged out here!”_ I pleaded.

 _“Hah! Bold of you to say that after you broke into an elven tomb, destroyed an eluvian, and left vomit on the floor. That was a mess that yours truly had to clean up as well. Enjoy your dinner shem!”_ he chuckled and left.

I was now alone.

A cold feeling trickled up my spine. It settled in up to my head and radiated into heat. It wasn’t light energy. Light energy would have a calming and soothing effect, and with the lyrium bands, whatever lyrium was, I wasn’t able to call it.

No, this was something more primal. Most of the time I was able to repress it. However, maybe it was the number of times I nearly died today. Maybe it was the result of saving the lives of three elves and being stripped of my weapons and locked up in a cage outside. Maybe I was just tired. The anger and rage began to bubble up.

However, there was a part of me that recognized the danger, and before I did something really stupid, I took a deep breath then exhaled then again. With each motion I imagined the anger fuming out. It was a technique taught during devotion training.

When I felt my head start to clear, my stomach growled. I reached down and brought up the bowl that the elf left behind. I gave the goop inside the bowl a sniff. It smelled like cooked grass.

I placed the bowl on my lip and slowly poured the gruelled mixture into my mouth. It tasted bitter and about as well as I expected but I continued to swallow. I upended the entire bowl until I swallowed every last drop. The horrible taste remained but at least my stomach was full.

I put the bowl down, and at that precise moment something swooped down from the air and perched itself in front of my cage. It was the owl from earlier, or at the least the same kind. The bird had the same horns and bright yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow with the candlelight. It looked at me curiously.

“What,” I muttered.

The bird didn’t respond, instead pecking the wood under it like a cackle before flying off into the night, leaving me alone.

I was clapped in chains by a crazy band of nomadic elves in the middle of who-knows-where. There was nothing left to think about. I laid down, in the most comfortable position I could find with manacles on my limbs and a wooden block around my neck.

The elves were looking to keep my alive… for now. I just needed to figure out a way to convince them to let me leave and find my way to an Alliance outpost. Sleep overtook me and I dreamt that night of Northshire.

The following days passed by in a routine. Cammen would deliver breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the form of a bowl of cooked grass soup as I called it. He would also clean out my piss and shit bucket. Each time I would ask him about my situation, and each time he would shrug and say no decision was made yet. We kept this for several days, enough that I could feel my moustache and beard grow out and I could no longer smell my own stench.

A few times I tried to get someone’s attention but nobody did. Later I resolved to just eavesdropping. The few topics I overheard were mostly about hunting or fishing or some community event. Where the best game could be found, when the next festival would be, how the stockpiles of food looked, and so on. Subjects I never imagined most elves would have been interested in. The Dalish were an odd folk.

Occasionally I saw pairs of hunters go out into the trees and return with deer, squirrels, and other game. My stomach would occasionally growl at the sight. It was filling but I could have used something other than cooked grass soup.

I wondered if the ones known as Tamlen, Lyna, or Merrill were among them. I didn’t recognize them among the hunters I saw. This was one light-be-damned way of showing hospitality to someone who saved their lives.

I tested out my restraints and the cage. The cage itself was sturdy and it was on some type of wagon similar to the ones I got a glance at. There were weights tied to the manacles, so even if I somehow tore it free, I would be slowed down enough for the elves to catch up. I thought up of ways to escape through the day until I fell asleep.

Then something happened one evening.

“Psst,” I heard. I opened my eyes, I was tired but I wasn’t asleep.

_“Who is there,”_ I asked and looked around. It was a full moon so I was able to see. All the fires with the exception of some sentry lights were out. Everybody, with the exception of what I assumed would be a guard, was probably fast asleep.

_“Not so loud! I’m not supposed to be here. Look to your right!”_ I heard the feminine voice whisper.

I looked in that direction. An elf walked out of the brush. She wore a familiar garb consisting of a leather jerkin, leather boots, and cloth shoulderpads. She had a wooden staff behind her back, one end gnarled into a swirl.

I recognized the tattoos on her face. She was the mage that I saved from the spiders.

_“You’re Merrill… right?”_ I asked.

_“Oh! You recognized my name!”_ she squeaked.

_“Well, your names have been on my mind for quite some time now. I like remembering the names of those I save. Especially if lock me up in a cage afterwards,”_ I bristled. The anger was seeping out. Breathe in. Breathe out. This was a chance to learn more and gain some favors to escape.

_“Oh sorry. Believe me, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I am really sorry,”_ she stuttered.

_“I’ve been stuck out here for light-knows however many days. Have your Keepers come to a decision on what they are going to do with me?”_ I asked. Besides the sarcastic edge to the question, I actually did want to know what was going on.

_“No… Sorry, the two Keepers. Zathrian and Maretheri are still deciding. Its just they are really busy. We came here to talk about other things when you just appeared. I only know because I am the Keeper’s charge. Maretheri’s charge,”_ she said.

_“Well do you know when they are going to make a decision? I can tell you the Alliance is not going to be pleased when they find out how one of their paladins have been treated,”_ I said.

“ _Sorry, I don’t know,”_ she replied. I sighed. She knew as much about my current situation as Lorekeeper Deldarron knew any actual lore.

_“But this was the second time you mentioned this Alliance? What is that?”_ she asked.

“ _The Alliance? You don’t know the Alliance? The union of humans, elves, dwarves, and gnomes that fought against the Horde years ago?”_ I replied.

_“Really? Sorry. This is my first-time hearing of this before. I’ve always known most of the races to keep to themselves. I’ve never heard of a gnome either. Also never heard of them coming together for well anything. Unless you count the blights, but the last one was 400 years ago,”_ she said. 

Where was I that I was with elves that never heard of the Alliance before?

_“Nevermind. It is a real thing though. I’m an officer, Knight-Lieutenant in its service. Anyhow, why are you out here talking to the prisoner?”_ I asked.

She fidgeted. “ _Well… the Keepers yelled at the three of us afterwards and forbid us from talking to you in any way. Lyna and Tamlen didn’t seem to mind. I couldn’t help it though. Sorry. I’m just really curious. You are just very different from every other shem I met. You saved my life and you can use magic as well! I saw that shield-spell you cast on me earlier. Is everyone in your Alliance able to do that?”_

 _“You mean light-energy? Yea, a lot of us can do this. I want to say a good quarter of the Alliance consists of paladins and priests like myself. Half the lot are rogues, hunters, and warriors. The other quarter are mages. I’d say half of those are elves and half are humans,”_ I replied.

_“You have elven mages?”_ she asked.

_“Yes. One of my friends is one,”_ I replied.

“ _Oh, that is neat! Is he Dalish?”_ she asked.

“ _I er… no,”_ I replied. Alamere would kill himself before he got caught wearing something made of leather.

“ _Aw… That is such a shame. I would love to meet someone like him. A Dalish elf who fought with humans,”_ she said.

I thought about it for a moment. Merrill seemed exactly like the students Alamere talked about back in the floating city of Dalaran. He used to be a teacher up there, and he always reminisced teaching inquisitive young minds the splendors and intricacies of arcane magic.

“ _I think you would get along with him very well,”_ I replied.

“ _Well it was fun talking to you! Sorry again for getting you locked up. I have to go though, can’t be gone for too long. Otherwise Lyna will start getting suspicious. She is so overprotective,”_ she said then disappeared into the brush.

Merrill stopped by again and we had brief conversations over the following nights. She asked me questions about myself. She listened as I talked about my past, and about my friends. I talked about Alamere the mage, Bluebeard the hunter, Captain Falmore the warrior, and Singlepipe the engineer/rogue/gnome. In return she answered my questions about the Dalish and their peculiar customs. It was good to talk to someone after several days of silence. Before she came, I was actually starting to miss Lorekeeper Deldarron’s monotone voice.

She told me the reason why Lyna and Tamlen were so combative during our initial meeting. Lyna had lost her parents to human raiders. Tamlen had no history, but grew up with her and saw how lonely she was without parents. Keeper Maretheri did her best to be a substitute parent but was busy running the day-to-day affairs of the camp.

It reminded me of my own childhood, so I understood. The humans did to her what the orcs did to my own family. Although I was confused as to why the elves didn’t do anything about it. Any transgression against an elf by any human was typically met with swift reprisals.

 _“Why didn’t your clan pursue recompensation?”_ I asked.

 _“Well, I’m not so sure. I think it happened in Ferelden at the time,”_ she replied. _“It also happened 15 years ago, so who knows.”_

15 years ago? That would make Lyna fifteen. Elves did not age that quickly. Then the thought kicked in.

 _“Not to be rude but how old are you?”_ I asked Merrill.

 _“I’m 15 years old now,”_ she replied.

Everything started to come together, and it answered several lingering questions. Like why I couldn’t recognize any of the trees or why there were no peaceblossoms or any familiar herbs in the forest for that matter. Why the architecture of the tomb that I was in seemed so off-putting. Why the elves wore outfits from materials more suited for dwarves or why nobody seemed to know what the Alliance was.

I had a feeling that the portal had taken me a bit further than the Eversong Woods. Maybe further, like another continent, or through the twisting nether and to another world.

_“Are you okay? You’re looking off into the distance,”_ she asked.

_“Oh… No, I’m fine,”_ I lied. Questions raced through my head. If this wasn’t Azeroth, how was I going to get home? Lorekeeper Deldarron was nowhere, and the portal I came through was destroyed. Was I ever going to see Northshire again?

_“Well I need to get going. I’ll see you again tomorrow!”_ she said and disappeared.

Cammen stopped by the next morning with news. There was something different about the elf. He seemed… joyous?

 _“So it looks like the Keepers have come to a decision after all,”_ he said.

 _“Really?”_ I replied. I was still trying to process the fact that I may not be on Azeroth.

“ _Zathrian and Maratheri have decided to leave your hands to human justice. We just made contact with a local group of templars. We will be delivering you to them the following morning,”_ he said.

“ _Oh… ,”_ I replied.

 _“Oh come on. There needs to be more excitement than that! You should be excited, as am I. No longer have to be stuck with this lousy errand,”_ he said then left the bowl at its usual spot before dancing away.

Merrill didn’t return that evening. I guessed she got caught or was preoccupied with other business.

The next morning there was no breakfast. Instead five dalish elves led two large animals with horns and latched them onto the wagon that held my cage. They didn’t speak to me. 

We left for the forest, to where my future lay.


	10. Abomination

**“The Dalish resemble the Quel’Dorei, but with several physical and cultural distinctions. Their ears are also aren’t as long and their eyebrows aren’t as pronounced. They lack longevity and age at the same pace as humans. Their lifestyle is nomadic and they move from place to place without setting roots down in any landscape. It is similar to how the human tribes lived before the founding of the Kingdom of Arathor. The key distinction between the early human tribes and the Dalish are that while the former were the seed of a now-thriving culture, theirs are the remnants of a decaying society. Each Dalish tribe has a leader known as a Keeper, a position that holds a mingling of the duties of a king to his people and a priest to his followers. I later discovered that they are the only ones who are fully fluent in reading the elvish language. The Keeper also retains an apprentice who will one day succeed them as leader of their respective tribe. Both must display an affinity for magic, which we know as the ability to manipulate arcane energy, present in all mages and warlocks. A rare and persecuted trait, as I would later come to discover…**

  * **From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood**



**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood,”** a familiar voice said. “ **Are you well.”**

The sound alerted me out of my daze. “Lorekeeper?” I uttered out loud.

One of my Dalish escorts turned towards me, his eyebrows raised. I said nothing and just stared blankly around, trying not to draw any suspicion. He regarded me a wary eye and looked back ahead.

“Where were you?” I mouthed the words without actually speaking them out loud. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

It wasn’t that I missed having an ancient mechanical gnome speaking in my head. Well maybe I did a little bit. The elves weren’t much for conversation once we started traveling, and the last few hours were the occasional grunts of the horned beasts pulling the wagon, the steady churn of the wheels, and the sights and sounds of the winding forest. 

**“I was unable to converse due to physical proximity.”**

“Wait… if it was distance. Are you here somewhere now?”

**“My physical disc is currently in possession of one of the lifeforms.”**

He was on one of the elves. I look around. One of the elves was carrying a bulging sack of some sorts. That must have been it.

“Well I am glad to know you are safe,” I mouthed. “Because at the moment there is something wrong. Nobody knows what the Alliance is. None of the elves act like actual elves. I’ve been locked up eating cooked grass soup for days, and I don’t even think we are actually on Azeroth anymore.”

**“This would appear correct. My navigational sensors are unable to pinpoint our geographic location. It is a feasible that we are no longer on the same world of our origin.”**

“Well do you know any way back?” I asked.

**“Based on navigational data, to return to our earlier location we must move due south-.”**

“I meant do you know if there is any way to return to Azeroth,” I almost said that out loud. I noted curious glances from the elves, but at this point I couldn’t care.

**“We would have to return through a portal similar to the one that we originated from.”**

“But the one we came through was destroyed.”

**“Correct.”**

“So, is there another one like it?”

**“It is likely… The creators have used several portals of similar purpose for their creations. It is likely others exist.”**

“Would you be able to find one we could use?” 

**“No known locations exist in my memory banks.”**

I sighed. When I heard Lorekeeper Deldarron’s voice, it sparked a hope that he would know of a way back. It did but I just wished he could be a bit more helpful.

“If we got close. Would you be able to detect these portals?” I asked.

“ **Yes. The portals leave a unique energy signature that is detectable from my sensors. I would need to be within close proximity.”**

Well at least we would know if we stumbled onto one, somewhere in this vibrantly green new world. This vibrant new world where people lock you up for saving their lives. I had a feeling we were as likely to stumble into another portal as likely as finding a single needle in all the haystacks from Silvermoon City to Booty Bay.

“Great,” I mouthed. I turned my attention from portals to more immediate and pressing concerns.

The elves were planning on handing me off to an unknown human group known as the templars. The fact that at least humans existed here was reassuring, but I had no idea if we shared the same values let alone the same culture. Two things were certain now though. First, I needed more information. Second, I wasn’t going to leave myself at the mercy of others.

It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I was chained up tighter than a prisoner in the lowest level of the stockades. The “lyrium bands” I had around my wrist were preventing me from using light energy. I didn’t have a weapon either, and I doubted there were any weapons with seals that channeled light energy.

I’d also have to fight my way through my captors. I’m fairly confident in my own abilities but four on one? Maybe Singlepipe or even Alamere, but I wasn’t sure about me. That jogged my memory.

“Lorekeeper Deldarron. You mentioned something about me earlier. Something to do with stats?”

“ **Yes.”**

“What did you say mine were?”

**“Recalling data… Lifeform: Knight-Lieutenant Eratus Riverwood…”**

**“Strength: 31”**

**“Agility: 28”**

**“Stamina: 32”**

**“Spirit: 33”**

**“Intelligence: 30”**

“And what do each of those mean?”

**“Recalling data… ,”**

**“Strength- Measure of lifeform’s physical prowess.”**

**“Agility- Measure of lifeform’s reflexes, dexterity, and balance.”**

**“Stamina- Measure of lifeform’s physical endurance.”**

**“Spirit- Measure of lifeform’s mental endurance”**

**“Intelligence- Measure of lifeform’s ability to exercise cosmic forces.”**

I had a very vague understanding of what he meant what he meant by spirit and intelligence however I understood what strength, agility, and stamina meant.

“Can you do the same thing on the elves and tell me the results?” I asked. “Only if you can do so without alerting them to your presence.”

**“Yes, within physical proximity. Scanning… Lifeform: Elf… Str: 15, Agility: 18, Stamina: 16, Spirit: 14, Intelligence: 0.”**

I made a mental note of the 0 for intelligence. Intelligence probably didn’t mean the same as the traditional definition. It also confirmed a few things. Why the Dalish commented my strength. Why the giant spiders here weren’t as difficult to deal with.

“You were able to determine whether or not I could survive an encounter earlier,” I said. “Does you’re a lifeform’s ‘stats’ fit into that?”

**“Correct. Lifeform stats are quantified in singular units. Example, strength. Running analysis of Lifeform: Elf to Lifeform: Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, abstracting…. You are twice as strong as Lifeform: Elf.”**

“So would I be able to overcome these elves in combat?”

**“Analyzing… running simulation… in current scenario with all physical restrictions all fights lead to a success rate of 0%.”**

Well that much was a given. “And if I had no physical restrictions?”

**“Analyzing… running simulation… success rate of 85%... success rate rises to 97% if Lifeform: Knight-Lieutenant Eratus equips a weapo.,”**

Got it, so I just needed them to remove the chains and lyrium bands. I doubt the elves were going to do something like that anytime soon. However, it was an opportunity. If this was a new world, I needed every advantage, especially since I couldn’t trust anyone. Which led me to my next important question.

“Lorekeeper Deldarron… why are you helping me?”

**“Because you are assisting me in returning to the main frame.”**

“No, I meant why are you helping me now?” I asked. “Why not speak to one of the elves, or for anyone else for that matter? You are probably aware at this point that I am in no position to do anything,”

There was no immediate response. The wheels of the wagon scraped along the dirt.

**“Based on my analysis of the current situation, you are the best option.”**

“And if a better opportunity emerges?”

Another pause. One of the wagon mounts grunted. A flock of birds cawed above us.

**“Analysis indicates better opportunities are unlikely to exist.”**

“That didn’t answer the question.”

Silence. Tree branches bristled from a passing breeze.

**“So long as our purposes align, I will provide assistance.”**

It wasn’t the answer I was looking for but at least now we agreed on that. We were each other’s best chance at returning home.

**“Additional input requested… translating… requesting a plan,”**

“Glad we are in agreement. Here is what we are going to do…”

Armored figures approached us from the edge of the forest.

There were five of them. They wore full plate armor that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Instead of leggings, they had metal skirts that went down to the foot, with a red sash wrapped around their waists. These must be the templars. One of them trailed behind, pulling a donkey laden with pouches and bags that I took to be travel supplies.

The Dalish and I were in the middle of a clearing.

Their figures became clearer as they got close. Each templar had a black sword emblazoned onto their breastplate. It faced down and was surrounded by wavy etches that resembled flames. I didn’t recognize the insignia from any of the seven kingdoms, or the Knights of the Silver Hand, or any other order.

They paused a distance away from us. Four of the templars, including the one dragging the donkey, wore helmets. A narrow cross was slit in front to allow eyesight. The one without a helmet approached. he had short brown hair with no facial hair, and his sash was embroidered in gold. His arms were crossed and there was a guarded expression on his face.

“Took you long enough,” the lead elf said.

“We do not rush things,” the man spat on the ground. “Especially not for any elves.” He looked at me with a sneer. “Is that the apostate?

“He is your quarry,” the lead elf said. “We have brought him as agreed.”

“Lorekeeper. Can you tell me the stats of the templars once you get a chance?” I mouthed.

**“Acknowledged.”**

The templar walked up to my cage, the elf trailed behind him. The man looked me up and down.

“You should know the shem talks to himself,” the elf said. “One of ours told us he speaks to a rock. We think he may have lost his mind.” I played along and just kept moving my mouth, speaking incoherent letters and words.

“A rock?” the man asked.

The elf holding my sack came up and brought out the stone disc and held it to the templar. The man eyed the stone and hesitated. After a few pauses he took it from the elf’s hands.

“ **“Scanning…. Lifeform: Templar…. Str: 19, Agi: 15, Sta: 17, Spr: 15, Int: 3.”**

“Doesn’t seem like anything special,” he said. “Just seems like a regular rock, though its rather smooth.”

He lowered the disc and stepped to my cage. His nose twitched then he turned away, coughing. “Maker he smells like shit. When was the last time this one took a bath?”

“Not our concern,” the elf said.

He eyed me up and down again. “You sure this is an apostate?” he asked. “I don’t sense a lick of lyrium on him save the wrist bands. He doesn’t look like one either, too big. Looks more like some common bandit or thief.”

“Then perhaps we will just set him free next to a human settlement,” the elf said. “Are you going to take him or not? We must be on our way soon.”

The man narrowed his eyes at the threat. He looked back to me, a thoughtful look on his face. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll sort it out with the enchanters. Templar Nelson!” he yelled.

The templar holding the donkey stepped forward, and the donkey reared its head back. It was eating grass and didn’t want to be interrupted. The two engaged in a tug of war. One of the other men pointed at the scene, while the rest stared. I heard laughter.

Then one of them came around and slapped the donkey’s ass. The mount leaped forward as Templar Nelson pulled, making him fall backwards to the ground. The other templars hooted and cheered.

The man with the golden sash grinned and shook his head.

Templar Nelson stood back up, sweeping the dirt off his skirt, and walked towards us. “Y…Yes Captain!” he said.

“This one here is your first apostate. You’ll keep an eye on him,” the Templar Captain said then handed him the stone disc. “This rock is very special. Do not lose it.”

I could hear a hint of amusement in the Captain’s voice. He was messing with the young man. Templar Nelson accepted the disc.

**“Scanning…. Lifeform: Templar…. Str: 17, Agi: 13, Sta: 15, Spr: 17, Int: 3.”**

The Captain was the most senior and Templar Nelson was the most junior. I assumed the rest of the templars would have stats somewhere between those two. Easy pickings.

The elf holding the sack handed it off to Templar Nelson. I saw a familiar glimmer from a hilt inside. It was Captain Falmore’s sword.

Two elves opened the cage and walked inside. They undid the chain bindings and released me from the wooden block. The manacles and lyrium bands fell to the ground.

I felt a sensation of relief as the weights fell. I was also tempted, to reach out with my hands and grapple the two elves to the ground. I resisted the urge; it wasn’t the most pious thing to do and it wasn’t the right time to strike. They led me out of the cage and onto the ground.

The Templar Captain handed a pouch to one of the Dalish elves. Was there a bounty system or agreement in place between the Dalish and this organization known as templars? I made a mental note of that later.

The elves led me out of the cage and passed me to Templar Nelson. I was unrestrained, but they didn’t expect me to run. “Don’t try anything funny,” the young man threatened. “Oh dear Maker help me, you smell. Get moving. Come on now.”

I could tell by his body language that he was nervous. The entire scene reminded me of how knights from the Kingdom of Lordearon would usually treat new recruits. They gave them the worst duties and pulled pranks on them. They justified it as a way to build camaraderie. I just saw it as poor taste.

I nodded then stepped forward. We rejoined the rest of the templars.

“Your first apostate!” one of the templars said and slapped him on the shoulder. “Well quite a smelly one at that too. I’m sure you can handle it eh Nelson!”

Templar Nelson didn’t respond. I couldn’t see his face but his elbows were tucked in to his chest and he was clenching his fist. It was all too apparent the emotions he was feeling. Humiliation and anger. He obviously wasn’t taking the prodding from the older men too kindly. Maybe that could be used to my advantage later.

We began moving into the forest.

A few hours passed by. Templar Nelson and I were trailing behind the other four men. The donkey trotted along, making an occasional bray.

“I apologize for the smell,” I said. “The Dalish aren’t too firm believers of personal hygiene.”

“It…Its alright,” he replied. “Just don’t stand too close to me.”

“It really wasn’t my fault you see. I was just taking care of my parent’s farm when the elves stormed through and took me.”

“We-We’ll let the enchanters’ sort that out. Until then you are an apostate and to be treated like one.”

“It’s true! Besides how much longer will it be until we get to where they are going anyway? Is it just you lot out here?”

“We’ll be on the forest for a couple days,” he said. “We’re the only templar patrol in these woods. There is another apostate we are hunting and we just picked you up along the way.”

Excellent. That meant no reinforcements to be concerned about.

“Ah fair enough only a couple of days. Do you know where we are going? I’ll need to find my way back home after everything is cleared up,”

“Assuming you aren’t an apostate and don’t undergo to the writ of tranquility,” he replied. “We’ll be stopping by the city of Denerim before heading over to the nearest circle tower, and do get a bath… please.”

I made a mental note that Denerim was the nearest settlement. I didn’t know what this writ of tranquility was but I was not intending on finding out in-person.

“Well be it. Now if you don’t mind me asking, I never seen your kind of people before. Not with all of your fancy armor. Although I think you take care of yours more than the others. The shine really sells it.”

“You’ve never heard of the templars?”

“Nope!” I replied. “I grew up in the forest with me parents. Learned the language from then too. Sorry if I talk funny.” Hopefully that was believable.

“We are the guardians of humanity. We protect all of mankind from magic. We hunt all evil beings. Blood mages, heretics, abominations, and cultists. 

Well that did explain why they were garbed so similarly to paladins. Apparently magic was treated like some sort of plague. That did explain why the elves acted the way they did. I’d have to be careful with using light energy from here on out.

“Well I think you lot are doing a fine job of it too,” I said. “Del agrees as well.”

“Del?”

“Oh, Del is my pet rock. He thanks you for taking good care of him.”

“Your… rock?”

“Yep! He talks to me every now and then.”

Our conversation was pretty much over then and there because he looked ahead and stopped talking.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I have detected a unique energy signature in possession of these lifeforms.”**

“Uh. Is it any threat?” I mouthed.

**“Unknown. It is a peculiarity that simply needed to be noted.”**

We continued through the trail when I saw smoke rising in the distance. The Templar Captain raised his hand. Everyone stopped. I squinted and could make out the source of the smoke. It was a small campfire next to what looked like a small hut on a hillside.

“Don’t move,” Templar Nelson said. He tied the donkey to a nearby tree.

“Okay! Are we after the other apostate?” I asked.

“Quiet!” he replied. The donkey snorted.

The four templars ahead fanned out around the home.

Then a man came out of the hut. He was wearing brown shirts and pants, and didn’t seem to be holding a weapon. He raised his hands, and looked like he had just woken up. This was probably the apostate Templar Nelson mentioned.

That was until he saw the first templar. His body language expressed terror and he ran. However, it seemed too late. One of the templars charged to intercept the fleeing man. That was when the apostate raised both his hands and threw a rather pathetically small fireball.

This was the apostate? This was the magic that the templars were safeguarding the world from? I’ve seen Alamere light our evening campfires with bigger flames than that with a finger.

The templar raised his shield tilting it slightly down. The fireball burst against the metal frame, causing no real lasting damage. The mage was readying another fireball when a shockwave radiated out from the templar.

**“I have detected an odd energy signature from the lifeform: Templar.”**

“How big of a threat is it?” I mouthed.

**“The event is disruptive; however, it will not impact your ability to call upon cosmic forces. Analysis indicates the beings of this realm utilize cosmic energy in an unknown fashion. Additional data is needed but the event that you have witnessed is disruptive to this type of recollection but not to your own.”**

That made no sense.

“So… whatever these templars did won’t affect my own abilities.”

**“Correct.”**

The templar captain then charged and tackled the man down with his shield. Before the apostate could get back up the armored man put a metal boot on his chest.

“Where is she!” he asked.

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” the man replied.

“Don’t try lying,” the templar captain said and pressed his boot down the man’s chest. “You helped her escape. Where is she!”

These templars were a rather brutal lot.

“Leave him alone!” said a feminine voice.

There was a woman standing on top of the hill. She wore a black robe embroidered in yellow.

“Laura, ru-!” the man cried but was silenced as a boot slammed into his waist. He curled up and wheezed in pain. 

“Enchanter Laura Thrysica!” the Templar Captain yelled. “By writ of the Chantry of Ferelden, we are here to return you to the custody of the circle. For your crimes you will undergo the rite of tranquility.”

“I’ll come down. I’ll go with you! Just-please!” the woman begged. “I’ll come! Just please don’t hurt him!”

“No! You can’t!” the man gasped. He scrambled up and tried to tackle the Templar Captain. “Run! I’ll ho-,”

I watched in shock as the Templar Captain drove the sword through the man’s neck. The woman screamed.

“Well,” the Templar Captain said. “That takes care of one.” He then kicked the corpse off his sword. The nonchalant manner in the way he handled the execution dredged up unpleasant memories. Templar Nelson said that the templar order stood to protect humanity from magic. This however… this was simply murder.

“Enchanter Thrysica, will you come with us quietly?” the Templar Captain asked, pointing the sword at her. “Or will we be forced to resort to force?”

I was originally planning on waiting until the templars set up camp to take any action. Not kill them but leave them incapacitated. Question them for more information and take off with the donkey and their supplies. The situation now was getting out of hand. I eyed the sack holding Captain Falmore’s sword on the donkey. It was within arm’s reach.

“No,” the woman replied, taking out a dagger. “I’m tired of running from you bastards. You are murderers. All of you. I will never return to that prison.”

“Stop her!” the templar captain yelled. There was terror in his voice, a fear of something more than what a mere dagger should have elicited.

Three templars ran toward her but not before she plunged the dagger into her wrist. She raised the arm and blood gushed out of her wound. It shot out in a stream knocking the templars down. 

“Blood magic!” the Templar Captain yelled. He charged forward.

**“Corruption detected. Warning… corruption detected.”**

I turned away from the scene and in one quick movement I reached into the sack and found what I was looking for. I pulled Captain Falmore’s sword free.

Templar Nelson saw the motion because he drew his own sword. “You dare!” he yelled and attacked me with his blade. However, it landed against a barrier of light. I had already cast the motions for the seal before he had begun his swing.

I had to give credit to his training because without any hesitation I felt the disruptive burst from earlier. He thrust his sword toward me. It would have worked, if I was a mage of this world. Unfortunately for him, I was neither a mage nor from this world.

Much to his shock, the sword crashed against the light barrier.

“Sorry,” I said. “Nothing personal,” then parried his sword with mine. What happened instead was when our blades crossed, his sword went flying out of his hands. Lorekeeper Deldarron was right.

He looked at me with shock. “Wh-What are you!” he asked.

“Nothing that means you in any harm.”

Then there was a gasp. I turned to see the Templar Captain strangled by a coil of blood around his neck. The other templars were back up and keeping distance from the scene. Whatever disruptive ability they used earlier must have had no effect on what the woman was conjuring now.

More coils spurred out of the woman’s wound and wrapped around the Captain’s limbs. The man dropped his sword and shield. His mouth was open, gasping for air, and his eyes were wide open in fear.

The woman looked at the Captain then all the templars. “All of you!” she said. “All of you will pay for this!” then drove the dagger through her belly. Blood poured in a torrent from the wound, engulfing the woman, spinning in a sphere.

Then the sphere burst, leaving behind a being whose name was revealed by Templar Nelson.

“An abomination…. .”

The thing was as big as an ogre. It had skin that shone like metal, spikes lining its shoulders and arms, four horns, and seven holes where the eyes would normally be. It growled and brandished its claws, then looked at the incapacitated Templar Captain in front of it. With a single fatal swipe, it lopped off his head.

“What in the twisting nether is that,” I said.

**“Warning… corruption levels at 95%... corrupted entity detected.”**

The abomination moved three times in quick succession.

The first claw caught a templar in the side and threw him into a nearby tree. He then fell, his neck angled in an unnatural manner.

Its second claw hit another templar’s shield, sending it flying away. With the second claw it cut through the weak armor around his neck. The man fell, blood spurting out of the wound, and died.

The last templar on the hillside turned tail and ran. However, the abomination was faster. It caught up sent the man crashing into the ground with a single blow.

Then the thing looked at Templar Nelson and charged. “No! I don’t want to die! Please! Please don’t kill me!” the young man yelled and ran away.

“No!” I yelled. “Don’t run!” It was too late; he was out of range for me to cast a barrier. The abomination caught up and gored him from behind. The bones pierced through the armor, and the young man was lifted into the air. Blood sprayed out of the slits in his helmet. The abomination flung the corpse off onto the ground.

Then it looked at me, and charged.

“Light-be-damned!” I yelled. “Is everything in this world trying to kill me!”

I raised my hands in front putting as much light energy as I could into the barrier. The abomination crashed into the light shield with its horns and spent me skidding back. However, the barrier held.

I swung and pierced the abomination’s left arm with my sword. The blade cut halfway before the dense tissue of the creature stopped it. It reared back and shrieked.

The arm hung loose, but I could see the injury begin to slowly heal. 

“Any ideas Lorekeeper!” I yelled. I was not looking for another long-winded fight with a regenerating foe.

**“Corruption is susceptible to certain cosmic forces… translating… light energy is effective against corrupted entity. Direct physical feedback will be required.”**

“Simpler!”

**“You must touch it with light energy.”**

If only I had a weapon with a seal on it. That would have easily solved this problem. I only had one idea and hoped the Lorekeeper was right. I drew light energy away from the barrier and into my hands, causing them to flare with white light.

Singlepipe taught me one of the best ways to defeat a foe was to

The abomination barreled toward me again and lashed out a claw. My barrier was no longer present so I reared back. The claw went wide, and I thrust my sword into its right shoulder. It shrieked and fell back. I let go of the sword, leaving it embedded in the abomination. Now both of its arms were useless, although I had no idea for how long. I charged.

It swung its head, nearly goring me with its horn but I leaped over it. I wrapped my arms around its waist and released the light energy.

The energy seeped through the abomination’s skin and it began to screech in pain. It tossed and turned, but I held on tight. Beams of light cracked out of its skin, growing larger with each passing moment.

Finally, it burst in a shower of sparks, leaving behind the body of a dead woman. I landed upright.

**“Corruption levels falling… the corrupted entity has been extinguished.”**

“Hopefully,” I sighed. My legs were shaking, and my breath was ragged. It seemed like a good idea to sit for a bit on the hillside.

Just as I began to lean back, I noticed something just barely within eyesight speed down from up high. I stopped moving and zeroed in on the moving figure.

It was the owl, the same one with horns that I noticed back when I fought the giant spiders. The bird perched whooshed to the ground, perching itself on a fallen branch by the corpses. There was a flash of light around the owl, and its form began to morph, growing larger while edging closer towards me. I raised the sword towards it with one hand, and formed a barrier seal with the other.

The being continued to grow larger and change until I could make out a pair of legs. Two arms jutted out from its side, complete with hands, the fingers gnarled into claws. The shape became more human until it resembled a lithe woman. Her armor was an odd mix of plate and leather colored in red and black. The pattern itself was avian, and reminded me of the harpies from Alterac Valley.

Her hair was twisted back into a long ponytail with hooks that reminded me of a dragon’s horns. She wore some kind of metal tiara, no it more resembled a crown, like one that a sovereign or a ruler would wear. Those same unsettling yellow eyes however did not change. The wrinkles about her face that gave away her age, but something about those eyes reminded me of something ancient, similar to the first time I met a high elven sage.

The owl, or woman, or… whatever it was stopped several paces from slashing distance.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “What have we here?”

Her voice was as equally unsettling as her eyes.

“Back off,” I nudged the point of Captain Falmore’s sword forward. Although it was caked with blood, the blue sheen of the mithril glimmered with the sunlight.

“Curious,” she said, crossing her arms and lifting a hooked finger to her lip. Her eyes shifted toward the weapon. “I do not recognize the metal used to forge that blade. From whence did it come from?”

“None of your business,” I said, taking calculated steps around her until I reached the hillside. “Who-What are you?”

“Hmph!” she said. “A question with an answer far too long for this encounter. Yet for now, you may call me Flemeth.”


	11. The Journey Ahead

**_Humans too exist in this new world, which will be henceforth referred to as Thedas. The first group I encountered, and which the Dalish handed me off to, belonged to an organization known as the Templar Order. They in turn serve a religious group known as the Chantry, which is the predominant human faith of the world. The Chantry and the Templar Order mirrors our own Church of the Light and the Knights of the Silver Hand in many ways. They provide a unified mythos for mankind. The Chantry and Church are the spiritual guides while the Templars and Knights serve as its militant arm. The similarities are disconcerting and one wonders if they perhaps shared a single origin…_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



“Why have you come here and what do you want with me?” I said, keeping my sword ready to strike. “I know you have been watching me for some time now.”

It didn’t seem to intimidate her at all. She kept a rigid, straight posture like how a noble would regard someone beneath their station. Yet, it was the small things about her. The hair-shaped like horns, the eerie yellow eyes, the clawed hands. They all made my instincts scream one word. Predator.

Her eyes were focused on me, regarding every aspect of my being. Then she turned, looking at the carnage and corpses around us.

“A few days ago, I felt a disturbance in the forest,” she said. “When I arrived, I spotted but a mere human man.”

She stepped towards the corpse of the female mage and kneeled. She cupped her face, and her eyes drooped, just for a moment, as if she was feeling sorrow.

“My curiosity unsated, I chose to observe him, and was rewarded. He acted like no other human I observed in captivity, spoke the ancient elven tongue, and even risked his life for the children of the Dales. In doing so, he defeated some of the forest’s most dangerous predators and even vanquished a demon of the fade.” 

Flemeth let go and stood back up, turning towards me. “Who is this seemingly ordinary human to accomplish such feats? Or is it human at all? A spirit perhaps? Or maybe even a demon?”

“None,” I replied. “I’m just an ordinary man trying to find his way home.”

“Oh?” she said. “And where is home for you?”

“None of your concern.”

Flemeth laughed. “An ordinary man who speaks the ancient tongue and wields a blade forged of a metal never before seen. One who can banish demons, and does not cower in the presence of apostates or templars. Let alone knows what either one is. My, my, you must be quite far from home.”

I wasn’t so amused with her antics. “You came here, you saw things, now begone.”

She smirked. “So, demanding for one in no position to make any demands.”

I mouthed to Del. “Can you get me her stats?”

**“I am not within physical proximity.”**

“And I sense another among us,” she said. “One that no one else can see nor hear. Yet this ordinary man clearly demonstrates he can.”

I said nothing. Flemeth smiled. I let light flow out from through my free arm into a wisp. I didn’t have much energy left, but I hoped the sight would scare her off.

She laughed, more of a cackle this time. “You don’t have to resort to parlor tricks towards me. I have met your kind once before. I do not come to mean you any harm, for now.”

“You… have?” I asked, still keeping my guard up. “You have a met a paladin or a priest before?”

“Not by that name, but I have. Once,” she replied, taking a step forward. “A long time ago, but the power you wield is not one that is easily forgotten.”

**“Proximity reached… Scanning… Entity: Amalgamation… Str: 50, Sta: 53, Agi: 57, Spr: 59, Int: 60. This entity is superior to you on all scales. A confrontation would not be favorable.”**

The Lorekeeper only confirmed what my instincts were telling me. I lowered my sword but kept light channeling into the invisible barrier.

“So tell me,” Flemeth crossed her arms. “Where are you planning to go now?”

“Denerim.”

“And is that home for you?” she asked.

“No, but it seems safer there than out here.”

Flemeth cackled. “True, true. Your kind have always sought the company of your own.”

“And what about you?” I asked.

“My curiosity is sated, for now. Yet your appearance here, it makes me wonder… is it by fate or by chance?”

She shook her head. “I can never decide,” she said. “But it appears fortune may still favor you today. I may be able to help you on your journey.”

The way she talked reminded me of the arcane practitioners that I ran into when I arrived at Southshore port. Self-styled seers who lived in the fringes of society, speaking of outlandish claims of predicting the future. All were usually old, crazy, or both. Most were harmless, but this wasn’t Southshore, and she certainly wasn’t just another sentimental coot.

“Why?” I asked.

“I have done so once before,” she said. “The result proved favorable then so I would assume the same for now.”

Her offer raised a lot of alarms in my head. My thoughts spun toward tales of cryptic horrors or malicious beasts that played with adventurers like a cat would play with a mouse. I very much felt like the mouse in the tale.

“And what are you expecting in return?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Simply your gratitude and willingness to entertain future favors. If of course you are free to do so.”

I had a hard time believing that, but I felt a denial would not end well for me.

“And what kind of help are you offering?”

“Simply some helpful words.”

She was treating this like some sort of game. But more information was good, and I could always choose to discard it if needed.

“Okay,” I said, and lowered my blade. However, I kept my distance and drew another barrier seal with my free arm behind my back. “I’m listening.”

“Good. The city you’re going to possesses many secrets, two that pertain to your goals. There is an old chamber which will arm you with the tools that you need. Find the Maker’s bride in her house, and she will lead the way. What you ultimately desire and what shall return you whence you came, will be in the vaults of the magisters of old. Be wary though, for they were vain men, and were quite protective of their treasures.”

“A riddle,” I said. “I don’t mean to complain but couldn’t you tell me something a bit… clearer?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that?” she said. “Don’t prove that I overestimated your intellect. And do be weary of conjuring your powers here. As you may already know, the folk of this world aren’t so welcoming of such displays.”

She turned and walked away. “I have provided what I can. The rest I leave to you. Now I must be off for there are other matters to tend to.”

A sphere of light flashed around her. It wasn’t holy energy; I would have been able to sense it. Her figure morphed once more. It grew, larger and larger. The spiked shape of her hair morphed into actual horns. Wings grew out of her back, and she went down on all fours. A spiked tail broached out, sweeping leaves away.

Flemeth took off into the air, disappearing beyond the canopy and out of sight.

_“And after reciting her riddle the shapeshifter left us for parts unknown…”_

I marked the entry with a flick of the quill pen. I was grateful to have recovered it. Alamere had gifted me it a year ago. There was some arcane mechanism that kept the tip coated permanently in ink.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Why do you archive your thoughts on a physical medium?”**

I closed the journal, and put away my pen. 

“In short, Del, it is because I am supposed to. I am my team’s scribe, and it is my duty to mark things down as they occur. In the event I am captured or killed… the journal will serve as a written ledger of what happened.”

It was mouthful to think or even say Lorekeeper Deldarron every time I wanted to speak with the automaton so I shortened it down to Del. It didn’t seem to mind.

It was also only partially the truth. Writing kept me calm. It isn’t every day that you find yourself with an ancient device talking in your head, get tossed into a new world, fight giant spiders, be poisoned, imprisoned, fight an unholy abomination, then talk to a shapeshifting dragon-owl-witch that gave you a riddle and disappeared into the sky.

Among other things that kept me sane, was that I just had a healthy diet of meat. Thin bones were piled up next to my campfire. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actual meat. I was at first hesitant about how fish was in this new world, but it tasted fine. Far better than Alamere’s sand biscuit or elven grass soup. 

I had also taken a bath in the nearby river. The water was damn cold but the heat of the afternoon sun quickly dried it off. My wet clothes hung on a tree branch in the light of the sun.

But by and large, I was calm because for the first time since entering this brave new world, I had my guard down. We were a couple miles or two from the battle that unfolded earlier. I was sitting atop a bed of grass and bathed in the afternoon sunlight. It felt good against the sores around my neck, wrists, and ankles. A breeze rustled the trees and swept across my skin in refreshment. Birds chirped in the sky, somewhere. There was water splashing against the rocks as it streamed down the river.

I was hesitant about relaxing at first. Since I got to this new world, it was an endless stream of fight after fight after fight. Fortunately, Del was able to sense hostility from any living creature in the distance. An ability I found most useful, and if something did come to disrupt my peace, then well, Captain Falmore’s sword was an arm’s reach away.

Despite everything, it surprised me how… normal everything was here. There was a knight who served with General Turalyon when they ventured into the dark portal to take the war to the orcish homeland. Apparently, they passed by several worlds on their journey. One where lava and hellfire were as plentiful as oceans and lakes, others that were frozen wastelands, and a few that he said were “completely indescribable but also unforgettable.” He had been there not once but twice, among the lucky few to make it back home before the portal closed for good.

I guess I should be happy that there wasn’t anything too crazy here. It was actually somewhat peaceful, here on this hillside. Just me, the donkey, and well… Del.

There were hundreds of other questions in my mind. Flemeth’s advice was chief among them, assuming she wasn’t just playing me into a trap or fooling around with me. A Maker’s bride and ancient magister? Whatever those meant. I’ll have to reference the riddle later once I arrived in Denerim proper.

There was the matter of that abomination the mage turned into. I knew orc warlocks reanimating the dead and of fel demons wearing human skin but I had never seen something like that. Was that why this templar order existed? To keep such things at bay?

It was time to get going. There would be time to think about that on the road. My clothes, hanging from the branch looked dry enough now.

**“Is a scribe similar in function to a Lorekeeper?”**

“Well, a scribe just writes things down,” I said. “I’m not too sure what a Lorekeeper is supposed to do.”

**“A Lorekeeper holds a repository of significant events.”**

I didn’t mention to Del that he seemed to be lacking in that particular faculty.

“I guess they are the same then.”

**“I will record this in my memory banks. What is to be our next move?”**

“Well, first,” I said, putting on my pants. “We need to put as much distance as we can between ourselves and that mess back there.”

After Flemeth left, I went around to see if I could save anyone. At least Nelson, the kid seemed like he had a good heart, and it would have been helpful to have the gratitude of another human. None survived, not enough light-powered abilities would have healed their injuries.

It was only a matter of time before someone noticed that a group of templars were missing. Best to be as far away as possible before that happened.

“And we go to Denerim,” I said, putting on my shirt.

**“I must question the wisdom in approaching a location densely populated with historically hostile lifeforms, or listening to the advice of unknown lifeforms without any context.”**

“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any better idea,” I reproached, putting on my pants.

**“Understood. Have you made any determination as to the locations that the lifeform labeled Flemeth has described?”**

“Nope,” I said, strapping my belt around my waist. “Maybe it will all make sense once I get there.”

I hoped. Another reason I wanted to go to Denerim that I did not disclose to Del was that if there are men in the world, then so too did alcohol. I wasn’t one to drown myself in drink but I could certainly use some now. A city seemed like the best place to find it.

**“Acknowledged. Location Denerim serves as potential knowledge repository to locate return portal. We are in consensus.”**

“Er… yea.” I shoved my boots on and moved toward the donkey, who was tied to a tree by the riverside, munching on the grass.

I pulled off all the sacks, holding the loot I had taken from the bodies, which was everything minus the armor and swords. Light knows I could have used either but they were too conspicuous. I had a feeling the emblazoned sword on the breastplates and patterned hilts would only draw suspicion.

I dumped the goods onto the dirt and began to look through, separating anything useful from anything that looked like deadweight. After chafing through I was left with a map of the local area, my mana gauge, several rolls of cloth which I could use as bandages, water skins, some metal tools, the rock disc Del was stored in, and several glass flasks that held a glowing blue substance. Each of the templars had one in-person. Del said that the substance was “emitting high energy” so I kept it. Who knew when it would be useful?

Everything else was dumped into a hole that I covered with dirt.

There were also two hearthstones. Unluckily for me they were a pair, the same ones I used to transmit the message about the orc band to the main encampment. Otherwise I would have tried to send a message back home.

Still I kept them, as a memento if nothing more.

I clapped my mana gauge back onto my wrist. The blue bar flared for a moment then settled at 50%. All the other goods were tossed into a leather backpack that I took from the hut. It wasn’t technically stealing since the man who owned it was already dead. I doubt he would miss it from whatever afterlife he went to. 

I did however note that my officer’s knife was missing. My guess was that an enterprising Dalish elf took it. Thieving bastards. Not much I could do about it now though.

I put on the backpack and bolted Captain Falmore’s sword to my belt. After which, I walked over to the donkey, and unfastened the rope tying him to a tree.

I pet his mane and looked into his eyes. “This is where we part ways. Stay safe out there.”

The donkey honked, in what I thought to be agreement. Some days, I wondered what it would like to be able to talk to animals like a hunter. Bluebeard always claimed to be able to talk to his hawk, although all we ever heard were squawks and caws.

I nodded at the animal and walked up the hill, leaving it by the riverbank. We hit the dirt road that was on the map, and followed it towards Denerim.

The following days dragged on. My focus was on walking, watching for treacherous terrain, and figuring out where to set up camp. By nightfall, I was too exhausted after foraging for dinner to think of anything else and pass out. Del kept watch and would wake me up if anything needed my attention.

Over time however, I grew used to it, and the forest began to thin which made the trek easier. All of which allowed me to ponder some of the questions that I had tucked away earlier.

“So, you kept screaming about corruption when we met that… thing,” I asked Del. “I’m guessing that means they are bad right?”

**“Yes, corrupted organisms are the antithesis of the creators.”**

“The creators being the Titans?”

**“Correct.”**

“And do corrupted organisms exist on Azeroth?”

**“Yes, but they are safely contained. All such entities have been shackled 100,000 cycles ago and secured in storage facilities for containment and study as removal posed a danger to the planet’s life systems.”**

“But you mentioned earlier that you detected corruption within… acceptable levels?”

**“Yes. Flesh is conducive to corruption. However, it does make one a corruptive entity. Defense mechanisms exist to purge the planet if a containment breach is detected.”**

I didn’t want to know the specifics behind how a purge would be undertaken, but if it was true that meant whatever I faced back there was not the fel demons like Infernals. Luckily they were still weak to light energy.

“Also, uh… when you scanned me, you mentioned I had an affinity of some sort.”

**“Correct. Aptitude for cosmic forces.”**

“Yes that. Could you explain that?”

**“All Titan-founded organisms are imbued with aptitude to specific cosmic forces to ensure they can perform their functions as designed.”**

“Er… right. Could you explain what cosmic forces there are?”

**“Retrieving data…”**

**“Order, Aptitude of Norgannan, volatile and requires high precision and focus. Life, Aptitude of Eonar, burgeons and requires balance and optimism. Soul, Aptitude of Aggramar, intense and requires concentration and will. Earth, Aptitude of…”**

“Wait, wait, wait, that is too much.”

**“Complying…”**

“Back to the beginning. Could you tell me which cosmic force that you found I had aptitude for?”

**“Retrieving information… Data incomplete”**

“Incomplete?

**“Memory Banks do not possess full description. I retrieved a single word. Naaru.”**

“Naaru? What is that supposed to mean?”

**“Unknown. It will most likely be accessible at the mainframe.”**

From the small glimmer that Del mentioned, the so-called cosmic forces that he talked about sounded like affinities. Everyone in Azeroth was born with one and were classed accordingly. Those with light cores could become priests or paladins. Those with arcane cores could become mages. The same went for warriors, hunters, rogues. They were hereditary too, which made it all too easy to detect infidelity. I remember a bit of camp gossip of a soldier’s wife who gave birth to a future mage when neither him nor his wife was one.

“Anyway, you mentioned that one of the stats… Er… intelligence measured your ability to wield cosmic forces. The elves had “0” and the templars had really low numbers.”

**“Correct. Low intelligence designates organism as incapable of wielding cosmic forces. This is an anomaly that requires further analysis.”**

“Further analysis? Why?”

**“All lifeforms, if not imbued with a cosmic force are assigned one arbitrarily. This is a naturally occurring phenomenon. Examples for titan-forged. Arcanite constructs imbued with Order. Warrior constructs imbued with Soul. Thus far, only a select few lifeforms possess cosmic force ‘Order’ while others lack one entirely. Such an existence must have been artificially instigated.”**

That was odd. Some people had multiple, but everybody possessed at least one. There were no exceptions, ever.

Yet so far, Del was correct. If “Order” as Del called it was what mages possessed then that was all I had seen. None of the templars were able to channel rage in a way that a warrior like Captain Falmore was able to or wield light like myself. None of the elves seemed to have hunter companions like Bluebeard’s hawk or disappear from sight like Singlepipe.

I took a look the mana gauge. 60%. Natural regeneration was never that slow. My eyes occasionally wandered the forest, looking for any sign of familiar herbs like Silverleaf or Mageroyal without any luck. Both were known to help energy regeneration.

That reminded me, and I suddenly became aware of a spongy mass on the side of my belt. I reached a hand into the offending pouch and pulled out the black stalks. Ghost Mushrooms, the ones I snipped out from the tunnels. Looks like the Dalish and Templars hadn’t found those.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I can sense elevated tension. Is everything well?”**

“Yea, just…”

They were going to be a present to Aunt Tiana. How long had I been gone for? Long enough, for the Alliance to have attempted a rescue and come up short.

I could already imagine what was happening, and it probably already happened. My belongings would be sealed and encased. Captain Falmore would return with them and journey to Northshire. Alliance protocol for fallen officers was their immediate superior was to notify their families. He would be carrying a blue and red flag, a sign of a mourning courier. Everyone in Northshire would see him approach, wondering which family lost another one of their own that day. The mount would pass by houses, towards a little one sitting atop a hill. Aunt Tiana would step out, wondering who was approaching…

The mushrooms went back into the pouch, and I focused on the road ahead. I had to get home and make things right.


	12. Denerim

**_“For all that I have seen so far, this world is much like our own. There are forests, rivers, birds, and bees. Plants and creatures exist here, different but similar in make to the ones we are familiar with. After passing the forest, I came across an unending ocean of grass and hilly plains that reminded me of the Arathi Highlands, minus the marauding troll bands and packs of hungry raptors. I later learned the people of this land call it Thedas, and the country I had stepped into as Ferelden.”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood._**



**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. There is a single entity, consisting of two lifeforms, rapidly approaching our location.”**

“I know,” I mouthed as the “entity”, a horse-cart full of supplies steered by a man, wheeled past us. “It is not a threat.”

**“Understood. I will store such information in my memory banks for future notice.”**

Judging by the number of times Del had pinged me every time something new or different popped up on the road, he was going to be storing a lot of “information” for some time. Lorekeeper of human society he certainly was not.

It only made sense that we would find other travelers along the road. That was what roads were used for after all. Travelling. Back in Azeroth you would find peddlers, merchants, soldiers, and refugees. Maybe the occasional odd gnomish contraption and, even rarer, an elven hawkstrider. Every so often you’d see the shadows of gryphons and their riders flying above, journeying from city to city to deliver parcels and mail. Occasionally dropping unpleasant white packages of shit on oblivious travelers.

However, now, there was nothing but humans. No flying griffons. No elven hawkstriders. No noisy gnomish machinery.

There was a theme to them. Clothes that looked worse for wear. Families. Carts full of things that looked less like trade goods and more like household items. The solemn, distraught faces on everyone save the children, who were probably too young to give a care.

The same faces, the same things I saw from passing refugees escaping the civil wars that ravaged the cities of Alterac and Stromgarde. I wondered what calamity had befallen the people here.

Nevertheless, it kept me on edge. I kept a hand on the hilt of my sword. Not that I had anything for people to steal, but pickpockets and thieves were common issues in such conditions. I also had Del use his “scanning” ability to get a read on a few of the folks, so I could get a judge of how great of a threat they posed. The result was: not so much.

Still, it seemed they were more scared of me than I was of them. Everyone seemed to give me a wide berth when they passed by. I could feel the glances thrown in my direction. It became obvious the moment I stopped to get water from a nearby stream and got a good look of my reflection. My eyes were bloodshot from days of labor and poor sleep. My hair was a jumbled mess. I was sporting a week’s growth of hair that was barely starting to resemble a mustache and beard. I couldn’t smell myself but given that it had been several days since my last shower, it probably wasn’t too pleasant. My clothes, which consisted of standard-issue Alliance linen pants and a shirt, were nicked and torn everywhere. I looked like a madman, an armed madman. It was no wonder they were all avoiding me.

I couldn’t blame them. I was tired. I needed a bath and not just a dip in the river. I needed new clothes, and a room to sleep in. A bed was optional, I just wanted to not wake up freezing cold every morning. I wanted real food. Light knows what the people of this world considered food but they must have some kind of warm meal. The fish and berries were good but I was tired of foraging for it every single day, and hunting was never my forte. The problem was I hadn’t the scant idea of going about finding that.

My thoughts were interrupted by cranking wheels approaching from behind, and the loud cries of an infant.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. There is a single entity, consisting of five lifeforms, rapidly approaching our location.”**

“I know…”

The cart hauled by a horse pulled up, a family of five on top. Judging by their clean clothes and the piles of boxes, another set of victims of circumstance. Though the cart and animals indicated they were probably better off. Two of the children perked their heads from the side of the cart, eyeing me with curiosity. Their mother was distracted, trying to comfort a baby wrapped in her arms.

They had dirt smeared on their faces, but otherwise looked in good health. A part of me wanted to ask if I could hitch a ride. My feet chafed against the leather soles of my boots and they seemed to be heading in the same direction. As if it sensed my thoughts, a dog perked its head up by the children. The pug-nosed animal was enormous, almost as big as some of the direwolves in Northshire. It growled in my direction, warning me off.

I sighed. So much for any sort of friendly reception. At least it wasn’t raining.

The wagon passed by and so did some more time. I was too tired to think of anything else when I heard something approach from behind. Boots landing beneath mud, horses whinnying, and the clanks of metal against metal.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Multiple entities rapidly approaching our location.”**

“I know… Look you don’t have to bother me unless they are a threat.”

“Make way for the Bann!” a voice boomed.

**“Understood.”**

I turned around to see a procession of armored men on horseback, pushing everyone else off the road. I stepped to the side.

Two men atop gray stallions brushed past me, each carrying a green flag with a golden bird inscribed upon it. They wore plate armor around their entire body, with the exception of a small slit across the head for their eyes. Judging by the sheen, or lack thereof really, the armor was of ordinary steel. My eyes drifted to the weak spots around the armpits, noting the soldiers wore chain-linked mail below the plate.

The men took no notice of me and were followed by a carriage led by twin horses. I couldn’t see who was in the wagon but judging by the ornate golden decorations inscribed onto the carriage, they had to be well off. Even in this world there were the haves and have-nots. Perhaps some form of aristocrat.

Once the procession passed by, I stepped back onto the road. I slowed my pace, just a tiny bit. The further I was from any kind of nobility and their attitudes, the better. I assumed I wouldn’t find much differences in this new world from mine.

Time passed and more people appeared on the roads. Some of them were talking to each other. Farmers or artisans, talking about the quality of their goods, when the next rain season would be, or about their wives or children or cousins or neighbors. I even overheard a few grumbles about taxes. Some things were just universal. Most of it was mundane and I would have normally filtered it out as background noise. Instead, while my eyes drifted along the road, I listened closely. Singlepipe, among the best at getting the lay of the land and how people worked, said the best way to gather intelligence was to keep your ears to the ground and listen to the common folks. There were gems if one paid attention.

“Have you seen the number of people on the roads lately?” said an old woman. “It looks like the famine is hitting harder than ever.”

“Indeed,” said a younger one. “The Orlesians salted my sister’s farm near Redcliffe during the war. Nobody has been able to plant a full harvest for nearly twenty years, and the draught only made things worse.”

Famine. That was a word I didn’t’ hear too often back home. Well, that explained the gaunt look on everyone’s faces.

The older woman shook her head. “It is worse at Denerim. I hear even the Chantry there is packed to the brim with starving mouths.”

“Those poor souls,” the younger one replied. “I feel blessed by the Maker that my family is doing well enough. I should make a prayer at the rock of Andraste.” 

The Maker. Flemeth mentioned him in her riddle. I made a mental note of him and this Andraste they were talking about. The woman’s conversation devolved into familial gossip after that.

Then something between two men perked my interest. I slowed my pace down to theirs to listen.

“Why’d you quit being a guard anyway?”

“Cause there was nothing to do and lousy pay. Lothering doesn’t pay enough to deal with all them problems they have down there.”

“Eh, fair enough. I hear the Bann there has always been snippy with coin.”

“Yea, that’s why I’m headed to Denerim. Word is the Blackstone Irregulars be looking for new joiners.”

“The sellswords? Don’t they go about doing all the dangerous work? What’s so different about what they do and the guard?”

“Pay is better. I knew one who joined up near Redcliffe. We did the same shit, but he lives large and I live small. Figures, I should be livin’ large too. You should join in.”

“Nah, I’m not feelin’ being a sellsword. I got a family to take care of and my wife would fry me knockers off if I did that.”

“Eh, suit yourself, anyway what about…”

Mercenary work. Seemed like an easy way to earn some coin.

And yet I resisted the thought. Fighting for coin just rubbed me the wrong way and the profession just seemed to attract a bad crowd. The Alliance used them, even called them “adventurers” to make the work sound less cut-throat and a bit more noble, not that it fooled anyone.

Still, I was going to have to find a way home, but I wasn’t planning on doing it while living in the wilderness. I wanted a solid roof over my head, food to eat, something other than pond water to drink, and a few other comforts. For that I needed money.

The rest of the trip involved listening in on familial gossip and the latest misfortunes of envious neighbors. Finally, after crossing a hill, Denerim came into view.

A part of me was expecting to see something completely off the cuff. It didn’t expect this world to mirror my own. Humans might live in something along the lines of the wooden forts used by orcs, or maybe a large temple in the manner of the forest trolls.

It was a relief then when I actually saw the familiar sight of a city, a large one at that.

All the tell-tale signs of a human city too. Stone walls that surrounded the entire settlement. A massive square that had to have been a marketplace of some kind. There was even a section of large, ornate buildings of an obscure architecture that had to have been where the wealthy and powerful lived. Contrasted by a slurry of more modest homes surrounding them.

Besides that, there were also tents outside the walls, entire hosts of them. There was a massive keep that jutted out in the southwest by the mountainside, towering over everything else and would have rivaled some of the mage towers I saw in Dalaran. The sea covered the city’s eastern border, ships with large sails, drifting in an out of several dockyards. 

It caught my eye because of all the glaring weaknesses. The way the city was built flew against everything I had learned about siege warfare. Even from the distance I could tell from the collage of brown that most of the buildings were made of wood. It was one of the reasons why Stormwind, Stromgarde, Lordearon, Gilneas, all human cities I knew were built from stone. Otherwise, one magical firestorm or a few infernals and everything would turn into kindle. No layered walled defenses either; one breach to the outer wall with cannons or a siege weapon and the entire city was open to be taken. No ballistae or nets around the walls either to keep gryphons from assaulting from above.

I snapped out of the mental wargaming and followed the road to the gates. As I got closer, I got a clearer picture of the tents camped outside. What I thought was some military encampment turned out to be a hodgepodge of desperate people.

The air reeked of horrible hygiene. It must be bad if I, who hadn’t cleaned in well over a week, could smell it. Downtrodden faces on everyone but the children, who were probably too innocent and naïve to care more. I was reminded of the dire situation described by the two women from earlier. If it was this bad outside the city, I wondered how much worse it was within.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. My sensors have detected the profile of lifeforms that have indicated hostile behavior in the past.”**

“What? Where?” I mouthed.

**“To your right.”**

I looked and, in the distance, I noticed a crowd of men, women, and children. In the center, were several figures in familiar suits of armor, emblazoned with a flaming sword on their breastplates. Templars. They held their hands back, pushing the crowd back as women dressed in red and white gowns passed out bread from a cart.

My stomach grumbled; however, I had no intention of drawing their attention toward me for the time being. I passed by them. 

It got louder and more crowded as we got closer to the gate. Up ahead, men wearing green and yellow sashes were inspecting people and their cargo by the entrance.

I wondered if I was carrying anything that would draw someone’s attention. Everything I had could be easily explained. Well, except the vials full of blue liquid. Actually, that might have been a bit suspicious. It didn’t matter though. At this point, best just to pretend like everything was normal.

I finally reached the gate and was about to try and slip through when someone raised their hand in front of me.

“Hold it,” the guard said. He was a skinny weasel-like man who stood a head higher than me. He smirked. He seemed the type to get a kick out of telling people what to do.

“You look a bit rough around the edges,” he said. “What brings you to the city?”

“Work,” I said honestly.

“Work? What type?”

“Mercenary. Sellsword.” That sounded reasonable.

The man took a closer look at me, almost as if I was worth the trouble of searching. His nose twitched. I guess I smelled far worse than I thought.

“Carry on then, though stay out of trouble.” He waved me off. I passed by him and the gates.

I arrived at an intersection. There was a noticeable and palpable difference in atmosphere here than outside the walls. Donkeys and horses hauling carts full of wares. People bustling from place to place. Hundreds of conversations that devolved into noise, yet carried with it a sense of excitement and optimism. Standing there, among the shifting crowds I felt the same way when I arrived at Stormwind City years ago as nothing but another country bumpkin. The possibilities here were endless, to the point of being nauseating.

That was me years ago though, a lot had changed since then. I had my priorities. Get some money, find shelter, sleep, then figure everything out from there. That meant mercenary work, and if the men from earlier were right, I had to go to the marketplace.

The road ahead split into four ways, with no clear sign as to where the marketplace was. With no real direction I picked a road then began walking. I had patrolled the winding roads of Alterac City without issue. It couldn’t be too hard to navigate my way here.

It was impossible to navigate this city.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. We appear to have reached another impasse.”**

“I know!”

We were standing in front of another building, another dead end. I thought there would be at least some kind of main road, so I just followed the flow of people and carts. However, the roads winded off into different directions without rhyme or reason and so did the traffic. It was well into the afternoon and we still hadn’t reached the first energy source Del had found.

The cobblestone roads were wearing away at my boots and feet. Sweat trickled down my chin. How did people even manage to find their way through this twisting maze?

“Please ser, spare some coin?” an elf said, lifting his hands and eyes in my direction from the roadside.

“Sorry,” I said, going on my way and the fifth time I had turned down an elven beggar. I had just come to terms with the concept of a city elf. Elves living like forest nomads were one thing. Them living like paupers? Alamere would have had a fit of epic proportions if he had witnessed such a sight.

There was something more tangibly nauseating than the air of excitement in this city and that was the air itself. There was garbage and litter everywhere. More often than one I saw people throw their junk into the streetside. Stormwind was bad but this was so much worse. 

I stopped at another intersection. Did I turn left here before? The buildings here were all variations of white and brown. Like the last three intersections.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. We have attempted this path before.”**

“Which ones?”

**“All of them.”**

“Damn it, I swear…”

Someone shrieked. The other folks on the road didn’t mind it, but it sounded like a cry for help. For better or for worse, or maybe I was just tired of wandering around lost, I decided to investigate. I followed the direction of the sound; it came from behind one of the buildings. As I got closer, I began to hear voices.

“Get your hands off me!”

“Come on… we just want some fun!”

I turned the corner to witness the sight of three burly-looking men cornering a red-headed woman against a wall. She had a knife out, more a kitchen utensil than a dagger. Below her was a basket, tipped onto the side with several multi-colored fruits that had been spilled onto the ground.

A man picked one up and took a bite. “Mhm… ,” he said while chewing. “That’s pretty sweet.”

“Hey! Back off, shem!” she lunged forward with the knife. The man backed away, and the lunge went wide. “O-ho,” one of the other men said. “Looks like we have a spicy one here.”

“I wonder if she’ll taste as sweet as that apple,” the third man said.

“You touch me, I gut you,” she said, trying to sweep the remaining fruits beneath her skirt. The men began to close in. I knew what was going to happen next and I wasn’t about to abide by it.

“A-hem,” I said.

The men turned their attention toward me.

“What do you want?” one asked.

“Me? Nothing,” I said. “But it looks like the girl over there wants you lot to leave her be. I suggest you do so.”

“Or else what?”

**“Hostile intent detected from three lifeforms….”**

“Else I’ll have to resort to force.” I gripped the pommel of my sword. “And it won’t be pleasant.”

“Boss,” one of the men said. “He’s armed.”

The lead man, the one I assumed to be the boss eyed the weapon then pursed his lips.

“Fine,” he said. “Have the donkey-ear if you want. Come on lads.”

The three of them stepped away then disappeared into one of the alleyways.

I sighed. Everything went better than expected.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. It appears that you have willingly chosen to instigate hostilities with these lifeforms. I am unable to determine how such actions would bring us closer to our goals.”**

Apparently, empathy was a concept completely foreign to Del as well.

“Look it’s… complicated,” I mouthed. “I’ll explain later.”

**“Understood… I have stored this conversation in my memory banks for future notice. There are numerous other in”**

Another problem for another time. I looked toward the woman. The thug’s comment drew me to take a closer look at her ears, and I realized she was an elf.

She had her knife towards me now, with a noticeable shake. The same defiant look she gave to the thugs was still there, but now with a slight hint of fear. Then I realized she was staring at the sword. I still had my hand on the pommel.

I released the grip; it was meant to scare off the thugs, not her.

“I mean you no harm,” I said.

No response.

“I simply didn’t want to watch you get hurt. I will be on my way now.” I bowed my head and turned.

“Wait!” she said.

I stopped and looked back.

“T-Thank you,” she said, lowering her knife.

“No problem.” I looked again at the empty basket and the fruits spread across the ground. “You need help with picking those up?”

“Um… sure,” she said.

“No worries,” I said and took a step closer. I saw her turn head away and her nose twitch.

“Sorry,” I said, apologizing for the odor.

“It-It’s okay.”

We spent some time putting the fruits back into the basket.

“Thank you again,” she said, with a smile this time.

“Again, no worries. Just be careful out here. I have a feeling there are more where those men came from.”

“I know. It’s just… this path is usually empty. Fastest way back to the alienage back from the marketplace.”

So she knew where the marketplace was. She got up, holding the basket by her hip.

“Well, it is rare to find a human willing to give a copper about an elf. I best get home though. What about you?”

“The marketplace actually. I could use some help with a bit of directions if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, that won’t be a trouble at all. Though… it isn’t so easy to just point out the direction. But I still have some time, so I could show you the way. Least I can do after you helped my with those louts.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

My nerves were on edge, and partially regretting my decision to have the elf lead me. The roads here were too narrow, and the buildings were too close together. Everything here reminded me of my patrols at Alterac City. We were ripe for an ambush.

I was surprised someone as seemingly… defenseless as her would wander these corridors without a trace of fear. My hands gripped the handle on my sword and I was hyper aware of every little sound. My eyes scanned the roofs above and I felt my stomach tense every time we turned a corner.

“So where are you from and what brings you to this shithole?” she asked.

“An… accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yes. I was… traveling. It’s a… long story. Got stranded near the city. Just trying to get home now.”

“Really? That sounds terrible! Even worse, given that you are stuck here of all places.”

“Well...” The thought dredged up memories. Funneling through orc hideouts in the mountains, fighting the brutes in freezing blizzards. Forests where behind every tree there was a troll that was happy to gut you up from head to toe. Or being caged by a pack of nomadic elves then be sold off like chattel. 

“It could always be worse.” We turned another corner, my stomach tensed as we passed.

“That’s because you’re a human. Still, I suppose there is plenty here. More and more elves arrive from the freeholds every day. From what I hear it is getting bad out there.”

I thought back to all the tents assembled outside the city.

“Why are elves treated so poorly?” I asked.

She laughed. “That is the first time a human ever asked that.”

“Sorry.”

“No… you don’t have to be. Honestly, I thought the same too when my uncle brought me here. Took me a while to get used to it but despite everything, it isn’t all doom and gloom.”

“It is different where I come from.”

“How so?”

What was the best way to describe it? In Stormwind, the elves had their own quarters in the city’s most expensive and lofty district, by the mage’s district and royal park. Even in the Badlands, Alamere had his own quarters, a luxury reserved only for ranking officers or the privileged. The rich and powerful had high demands for their services which was sometimes their mere presence. They were universally respected in any of the major human settlements and kingdoms.

“They are treated just like everyone else.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

There was a momentary pause as we exited the narrow passageways and onto a wider street with the familiar human traffic and moving goods. I breathed a little easier and relaxed enough to take the grip off my sword.

“It sounds like a lovely place to be,” she said. “What is it called?”

“I doubt you heard of it. It is Azeroth.”

“Azeroth. You’re right I never heard of it. It rolls off the tongue easy though. Azeroth… And the elves there, do they like it there?”

I thought about the first time I saw Silvermoon City. The vast smooth architecture that seemed to shine in the sunlight. Elves striding by in brilliant yet comfortable-looking clothes, seemingly indifferent to all the pain and horrors from the rest of the world.

“They do, though they prefer the company of their own.”

“That does sound like us,” she said. “Although for me, I would only include my uncle, aunt, and two cousins. Few would admit it but even we have some bad turnips among the batch.”

“Bad turnip?”

“Oh, I just meant not all of us are good.” 

We stopped as the road opened up into a bustling space. People and cargo moved between rows and rows of stalls and stores, filled with folk selling their goods. Some were simple wooden stands and enormous tents the size of houses.

“And here we are!” she said. “I need to get home, Auntie Adaia is probably worried since I haven’t returned, but it was fun talking! Speaking of which, I never got your name.”

I hesitated.

“Eratus,” I finally said.

“Eratus? I’m bad with names but I’ll remember that. I’m Shianni, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Stay safe on the roads, don’t take any shortcuts.”

She laughed. “Will do, have a safe journey!” She turned, skipping down the road.


	13. Markets and Mercenaries

**_“Bluebeard once told me the more things change the more things stay the same. With everything all the things different here, once you look past the surface, it isn’t so far removed from Stormwind. There are no auction-houses, but there is the marketplace. There are no churches but there is the Chantry. There are no slums but there is the alienage. There are no adventurers but there are still mercenaries.”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



If the traffic at the intersection was a steady stream, then the marketplace was where it turned into a roaring rapid. It was a massive square littered with stalls and tents surrounded by a whirlpool of people from all walks of life. I spotted the occasional cart or wagon moved along like rocks carried away by a current. There were so many conversations and transactions taking place it devolved into noise. 

“Hey, you’re blocking the road!” someone yelled from behind.

“Oh sorry!” I said and stepped out of the way.

The woman who had yelled at me strode by without hesitation, pushing a wheelbarrow full of clucking caged chickens into the middle of the marketplace. Her figure vanished from my view as a gang of laborers hauling boxes walked out of the maelstrom of people, followed by a man writing things down on a journal. Probably a merchant of some sort, trying to inventory his latest purchase. I caught glimpses of colorful cloth peering out from the covers.

Something was off. Instinct caused me to jolt to the side, right as a pile of white dung splat on the ground that I had stood on. I looked up to the sky to see a flock of seagulls flying past. Lousy birds.

The bustle of the square reminded me of the auction-house at Stormwind, minus the organization provided by the auctioneers and enforced by the city guards. Still, even with the disorder, everything seemed to somehow function without devolving completely into chaos. And somewhere in that mass of people, the mercenaries were present.

A city guard walked by in his green and brown. This wasn’t my first time seeing one on the streets, and I hadn’t bothered one for direction given the less-than-warm welcome I received at the one at the city gates. However, I was running out of time. I walked towards them, dodging traffic as I passed.

“Excuse me!” I said. The man stopped and turned towards me.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m looking for the Blackstone Irregulars. Do you know where I can find them?”

“Eh…” He scratched away at the side of his mustache. His expression was vacant, and I got a whiff of alcohol from his breath.

“You mean the folks who run the fighting pit?”

“Uh. I suppose so?”

He pointed towards the center of the marketplace. “Probably over there.”

“Where over there exactly?”

“Eh… don’t know,” he said then stepped away.

Well, that wasn’t too helpful. Looking ahead, the only option left was to walk into the densely packed market square. I sighed then stepped into the rabble.

Within moments I was surrounded on both sides by stalls of hopeful sellers and a horde of perusing buyers. Some of the stalls were mere wooden stands while others were tents the size of houses. Foreign scents assaulted my nose, their intensity enhanced by the heat of the afternoon sun.

The wares were unfamiliar but I could have guessed their purpose. Rolls of colored cloth meant for tailors. Clay pottery and straw baskets for the housekeepers.

“Fresh Oysters! Fresh Oysters from the Great Sea!”

“Incense from Nevarra. Take a gander!”

“Dried Dates! Dried Dates from the Anderfels!

The smells, the noises, the sights were far more vivid up close than from afar.

“Come here my friend!” waved a merchant, dressed in colorful yellow and orange clothing. “I have the finest fruits and spices from Antiva. Surely you must be interested?”

“Er… No thank you. I must get moving.” I wasn’t moving so much as I was being moved. The crowd of people relentlessly pushed me forward.

He disappeared as I was carried away. It was suffocating. I kept a hand on my sword and another hand on my belt. Pickpockets were all too common in places like these. The best way to dissuade any would-be-thieves was to look alert and threatening.

My eyes were drawn to dried figs and leaves hanging from one stall, herbs or spices of some sort, none of which I could recognize. I passed by it, and came across a stall with a charcoal fire. The owner frying several racks of chicken over the tinder. A pleasant smell wafted through the air, of greased butter and cooked meat. My stomach growled.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I have detected you require sustenance. A potential source has been found nearby.”**

Always count on the Lorekeeper to tell me the obvious. “Yes, I know.”

**“Why do you not forcibly procure it from the source?”**

“Because that would be stealing. And that is wrong.”

**“Stealing. Unknown judgment.”**

“I’ll explain later.”

**“Acknowledged. Storing note for future explanation in memory banks…”**

I saw an opening ahead and squeezed toward it through the crowd. Finally escaping into the outer perimeter of the market.

The buildings were different on this side. They were sleeker and larger. Some had glass windows, ornaments, and even gardens. A few were gated with wooden palisades and armed guards who were personal retinues judging by their colored armor.

“Ser Lindleshear, I must implore-“

“Hold your tongue, whelp. We will speak once I deem it appropriate.”

A man dressed in a patterned outfit with slicked hair walked by me, followed by two servants trailing behind him. He walked with his hands crossed behind his back, chest puffed high.

The two of them disappeared into a large structure. On the top was a painted inscription. The Gnawed Noble Inn.

Well, that was one place I was in no hurry to be at. Judging by its name and its customers, it seemed like it didn’t cater towards people like myself. My eyes were drawn to the colored windows across the street of another building. The art reminded me of the mosaics of the Grand Cathedral.

There was a star shaped ornament stood on its pointed roof. It was surrounded by stone walls with twin lady-like figurines standing next to the entrances. It was also guarded by several pairs of individuals wearing suits of armor with a very familiar looking sword emblazoned on their breastplates. Templars.

This was probably the Chantry.

“ **I am able to detect multiple lifeforms in the area from a previous encounter. I recommend we pursue an immediate aggressive physical altercation. I calculate a 100% chance of exterminating them if we take the initiative.”**

“Good to know. But no.”

**“But wouldn’t it be best to end this potential threat now?”**

“Because that would be murder and murder is off the table. Besides, there are more humans nearby and I don’t think they would take kindly to that.”

**“Acknowledged. I have recalculated our odds after taking this factor into account and our success rate diminishes to 3%.”**

It was good to know that the two places I was looking to avoid were planted right next to each other in the city. There was nothing else here, at least nothing that looked like a group of mercenaries. I dove back through the crowd of the marketplace, trying to avoid walking around in circles.

It was then that I could make out the sound of cheering and clashing swords in the distance. I followed the direction of the noise. In the distance, was what looked like a gaggle of people surrounding an open space. Flashes of metal glinted and I could barely make out two moving heads. This was probably the gauntlet or fighting pit that the guards had mentioned.

I finally got close enough to see that it was a makeshift arena. Wooden stakes were set into the ground to establish the perimeter of the fighting area. Inside the field, the two combatants clashed blades then fell to opposite ends to the cheers of the crowd. People went on encouraging their respective fighters.

“Come on Knives! I have ten silvers riding on you!”

“Don’t let me down Swick! You got this, you big oaf!”

Judging by the people in the crowd, they came from all backgrounds, both wealthy and poor. There were even some city guards by their tell-tale green and gold uniforms. Apparently, public duels and fights were legal in the city. I turned my attention back towards the fighters.

On one side was a man covered from head to toe with armor consisting of riveted plates of steel. The sword that he wielded was as tall as I was. He stood tall, aiming the point of his blade across the field towards his opponent.

His foe, on the other hand, was crouched on the other side with twin daggers. He wore nothing but simple black clothes. There didn’t seem to be any magical enhancement on the fabric either, nothing that would dissuade a sharp metal object from tearing through it in a single swing. He wore a shawl that wrapped around his head and down to his arms. His face was also covered by several layers of cloth, leaving only his eyes exposed.

The two fighters charged at each other. The massive greatsword swung forward and missed, striking nothing but air. The intended recipient of the blow had ducked under it then slashed his opponent twice. The daggers streaked against the metal plates of his foe. It failed to puncture but had enough force to set the armored man off balance, leaving him vulnerable. The hooded figure exploited the opportunity and in a demonstration of dexterity, swept his leg wide into the armored man’s back, sending him tumbling into the wooden perimeter. Several members of the crowd backed away as he staggered forward, while the rest of them went wild with excitement.

The fight was gruesome. It reminded me of the duels between Captain Falmore and Singlepipe, a rogue against a warrior, but with a lot less flare. I remembered that one duel in particular, the one that started with Singlepipe vanishing from sight with stealth and Captain Falmore smashing the ground, leaving cracks, trying to set the rogue off-balance. After that point, it was a whirlwind of blades as Singlepipe parried and dodged, landing glancing blows until he disarmed Captain Falmore with a critical strike and ended the duel.

The armored man got back up and turned around. His foe stood there, and raised a single dagger, almost in jest. His opponent didn’t seem to take that kindly and charged again. I frowned; it was an obvious bait and it looked like the man fell for it.

I was proven right when the hooded figure dodged, leaping over his opponent’s sword and kicked his arm. There was a loud crunch of breaking bones and I winced. Injuries around the joint like that were a pain to heal, even with the help of light energy. The man screamed in pain and dropped his blade.

The assault was not yet over, though. The cloaked figure landed on the ground and faced his opponent. He launched into a flurry of blows with his daggers, clanging and cutting into the parts of the armor where it was the weakest. I didn’t see blood spill, I guess the chain-mail he wore underneath protected him well enough. Still, the armored man stumbled back with each strike, unable to retaliate with his shattered arms.

Finally, the hooded figure twisted his hips and kicked his opponent high in the breastplate, sending him crashing through the wooden stakes and into a few bystanders. The victors in the crowd cheered while the losers drew their head down in disappointment. One specific loser, who judging by his gold striped tunic was probably the richest man in the crowd, didn’t take it well.

“No!” the young man yelled, tossing a half-full mug of liquid onto the ground. He had a fist raised. “Bloody hell! Get up! You can’t lose now!”

Contrary to his words, the armored man remained on the ground. Two men came up and lifted him up by the shoulders. Another man walked to the center of the arena and pointed an arm at the hooded figure.

“Gents! This makes our fifth bout today with Knives as the winner,” he proclaimed. People cheered while “Knives” gave a light bow.

“Looks like today wasn’t your day after all, Vaughn,” said a man next to the one who threw his mug. He laughed, and unlike his friend, wore plate armor and had long ungroomed hair. 

“Oh, shut up, Taoran,” Vaughn said, shaking off his grip. “Blast it. I’m done here.”

“Don’t forget to pay up!” Taoran yelled as his friend disappeared into the crowd.

Everywhere around me, people exchanged coins from lost or won bets. The end of the fight jolted me back into action. I needed to figure out where the mercenaries were, and something told me they would be near a fight like this. I looked around and noticed a man sitting behind a table by a billboard, eating from a plate with fried meat and vegetables. He had two guards, wearing a uniform consisting of polished metal armor over a leather jerkin. In front of him was the ex-guard, the same one from the road that mentioned the Blackstone Irregulars. That must be where they were hiring. I pushed past the crowd and towards him.

“What do you mean you won’t take me?!” the ex-guard yelled.

The man looked up. “The Blackstone Irregulars are professionals. Do you know what professional means boy? If I hired every two-bit ninny from across the Bannorn we wouldn’t be professional much longer. Now get out of my sight.”

“Why-!”

“I suggest you do as he says,” said one of the mercenaries by the table.

I couldn’t help but scoff. Most mercenary outfits from my experience seemed to take anyone with a pulse. It was surprise to see one that had standards.

“Fine. You lot will regret this.” He stormed away from the table, which I took as the opportunity to enter.

“We sure will!” the man at the table said, then took another large bite of a piece of meat. My stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

I walked up to the table. “Excuse me, I take it you are the Blackstone Irregulars.”

The man looked up at me and twitched his nose. I guessed I still smelled pretty badly.

He grabbed a handful of fried vegetables and stuffed it into his mouth. “Well you’ve come to the right place. I’m the liaison,” he said then gulped. “What do you want with us?”

“I heard you are hiring.”

He didn’t look too attentive, more focused on his meal at hand. He bit into another piece of meat, sauce and grease dribbling down his mouth. “We are. Looking for a job?”

“Yes.” Trying to ignore the spittle he was spewing in my direction.

“Well, what have you got to offer.”

“Well, I got a sword and I know how to use it.”

“Yes. I can see that.” The man gestured towards the blade. “And…?”

I needed a way to prove myself. Captain Falmore always said the fastest way to earn respect was martial prowess. “Those fights back over there.” I nodded towards the makeshift arena. “You run them. Correct?”

“Yes, we do. City-ordained, lads need to blow some steam off every now and then.”

“I bet I am a better fighter than anyone you can throw in there.”

“Really?” The man started to laugh. I heard snickering from the mercs behind him. “Let us see then! You last one round in there and we’ll entertain having you.”

“Very well then.”

“Excellent! Dirk, can you escort our latest hopeful?”

“Got it boss,” one of the mercs said. He stepped off and nodded his head towards me. “Come on, let’s see what you are made out of.”

We walked through the crowd, where several men and a few women were still exchanging their wins and losses over the last fight. We stopped at the edge of the arena, when “Dirk” looked around and pointed to the opposite side, to someone in the crowd. “Hey Balt! This one says he can knock you on your arse!”

“Wut?” said Balt, who stood up and shoved everyone else aside. The man was encased in steel plates from head to toe, a massive sword by his side that probably could have doubled as a maul. He stepped next to us, his chest coming to my eye-level. I had to crook my neck up to see his face.

“Who?” he asked.

“This fella here,” Dirk said, tapping my back.

“Think you can take on Balt?” he said.

I mouthed to Del. “Scan him?”

**“Scanning… Entity: Human… Str: 23, Agi: 19, Sta: 20, Spr: 15, Int: 0…”**

“What you say?” he asked.

“I said I think I can take you on.”

“Just like that?” he pointed at my obvious lack of any armor.

I looked at Dirk. He shrugged. “We aren’t a charity mate. In the cage, you fight with what you have or with nothing at all.”

Well, I guess I had no choice. I turned back toward the enormous man. “Just like this.”

“Hey!” yelled the man who ended the last fight. “No more fights for the day. If you have a problem, take it somewhere else.”

“Let them at it!” the Blackstone liaison yelled from afar. “This one thinks he has the galls to join us.”

The man stopped then looked at the two of us. “Fine, let’s get on with it.

I heard bets being drawn between people of the audience as we walked to opposite ends of the makeshift cage. I even saw Dirk try to make a wager with a few others in the crowd. Probably against me.

“Rules are simple. Fight till one yields,” the arbitrator said. Balt and I nodded in reply.

“Now.” The arbitrator struck a pole onto the ground. “Have at it!”

The crowd burbled in excitement. I drew my sword, the blue sheen of the blade glinting in the sunlight. Balt walked up to me, almost casually. It was obvious he didn’t see me as a threat.

I didn’t need to kill him here, I just needed to incapacitate him. Even with armor on, if I wasn’t careful, I was sure Captain Falmore’s mithril sword would cut right through him. That was not the kind of attention I needed.

My thoughts were cut short as his sword swept through the air. My opponent had reach, which he used to his advantage. I dodged back, letting it past. He followed up and I had to parry. The impact rattled me, I was more tired than I thought, but I held.

Balt’s expression told me he wasn’t expecting that and he dislodged his sword before going back on the offensive, sweeping his blade several times to ongoing cheers.

I was being pushed back, trying to twist around and parry each blow. Finally, I blocked it too late and the tip of the blade sliced past my cheek. I dashed to the side as he tried to go for a killing blow and behind him then shirked back, feeling blood slowly dribble down my face.

Regardless of Del’s assurances or my personal feelings, this was a battle, as real as any other. It was worse since I had no armor, wouldn’t be able to depend on any light abilities, and was using a weapon I had never been very good at. I needed to end this as quickly as possible.

Balt turned around then smirked and was about to cock another strike when my own sword tore through the air. It met his before it gained enough momentum, and we went into a gridlock.

I saw the surprise in his face as he struggled to press back. Then an armored gauntlet connected with my cheek, sending me reeling back.

I nursed my face. I still should have seen that coming. That hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. If that was Captain Falmore I’d have lost a few teeth and would probably have been sent flying back to the wall.

“Nobody beats Balt!” he yelled as he swung his blade again.

My muscles ached as I pressed all my effort into swinging my sword against his. There was a clash of metal against metal, and I clenched my teeth as the backlash rattled through my arms. The recoil sent my foe off-balance. It was time to end this.

I closed the gap and smashed the pommel of my sword against Balt’s waist. He heaved forward, dropping his weapon. The force of the blow left a sizeable dent on his armor. With his face exposed, I followed up with an uppercut to his chin, holding the punch back. I was trying to make a point, not to kill a man.

It was enough. The enormous man stumbled around, then flopped to the ground in a heap of metal and flesh. The crowd went silent.

I sheathed my blade and walked up to Dirk, who had a stunned look on his face, like everyone else. Behind him, I saw the liaison sitting at the desk, with an equally stunned looked on his face.

“So, am I in?” I asked.

“Well…um… boss?” Dirk looked back.

“Yea…uh…yes. I suppose,” the Blackstone liaison said from afar. “Come over here and we’ll get you marked down.”

“Splendid,” I said and walked forward, the crowd parting to form a path for me.

We came back to the desk where he took a seat and whipped out his quill.

“Now, what is your name?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

“Era-what?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

“Funniest name I’ve heard in a while.”

“I’m not from around here.”

“Eh, very well. Mind spelling it out for me?”

I obliged.

“Alright. Come here tomorrow at noon. That is when the jobs begin to open up. As I said before, we don’t supply armor but you’d best get your own before long.”

“Is there anything available now?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied. “All the jobs are-“

“That was quite a marvelous performance,” someone said behind me. I turned, and came face to face with the man with ragged hair who won a bet against Vaughn.

“Sir!” said the Blackstone liaison while standing up and knocking over his plate of food. It clattered to the ground.

“You can rest easy,” the man with ragged hair gestured with his hand. He turned his attention back towards me. “I am Taoran Hawkwind. My father leads the Blackstone Irregulars. It is good to see we have such a capable recruit joining us.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face, it set off alarms in my head. His expression reminded me of all the ambitious noble-born officers who seeking to escape the shadows of their fathers. Typically, by volunteering for themselves and their men for pointless and dangerous ventures.

“Thank you,” I said and began to turn away, looking to get away from him as soon as possible.

“No need. You impressed everyone with your performance back there,” he said. “Sadly, you took out someone who had for a job this evening. It seems that I am now in need of a replacement.”

Oops

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“It is alright. Although it seems that I am now in need of a replacement. What do you say?”

“Sir,” said the Blackstone liaison. “I don’t think it is a good idea to pi-“

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Taoran said.

The Blackstone liaison stood back down.

“What does this job entail?” I asked.

“Just a hired escort for some passengers this evening,” he said.

I had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Then again it wouldn’t be prudent to earn the ire of the son of whoever ran this mercenary company.

“It is nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “I have a wealthy client who is looking for some additional security. Far too many prying eyes on the roads nowadays.”

I doubted his words but food and shelter took priority. I needed money.

“And how soon will I get paid?”

“Straight to the point I see,” Taoran laughed. “Here.”

He procured a small pouch and tossed it to me. I caught it, hearing and feeling the crinkle of metal coins in the sack.

“That right there is 15 silvers,” Taoran said. “15 more when we are done.”

I had no idea how much money that was but judging by the tone of his voice it was a decent sum. Probably enough to land me shelter and food.

Maybe I was just overreacting. Plenty of wealthy individuals would pay for mercenary escorts in Azeroth without doing anything sinister. Why should it be any different here? 

“Got it,” I said. “When and where do we start?”

“Meet us outside the west gate at midnight,” said Taoran. “Best be there. Otherwise there won’t be a crevice in this town where we won’t find you.”

He stepped away.


	14. Hired Work

**_“Ferelden is a struggling kingdom. That itself was apparent from the few weeks I have spent here. Turmoil on the countryside has bred desperation which in turn has cultivated widespread chaos in the populace. Though safe havens exist, they seem to be few and far between, quartered in the cities and fortresses such as Denerim. It gave me cause to wonder what led to this predicament…”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



The sun had long since fallen off the horizon, replaced by two foreign half-moons. Neither was as large as the White Lady, who had lit the road on my journey to Stormwind, nor were they as small as the Blue Child, who followed its parent along the night sky. They were another reminder of how far I was from home. 

Besides the moonlight, there were twinkles of midnight oil burning from windows and the flare of torches from passing guard patrols. They were out in force now, far more than in daylight. They didn’t seem to mind me, taking far more interest in keeping vagrants off the streets.

The shadows cast throughout the dark corners of the buildings, normally restrained by the sun, now stretched out well into the streets. There were the faint echoes of conversation from the inns and taverns throughout the city. The final oases of activity in a world preparing to rest.

The only other sound were the scrapes of my boots as I trudged through the roads. A part of me that wished to just go and bed down. However, I had a job to do. 

From a paladin and officer of the Alliance to a mercenary working questionable jobs in the middle of the night. Not exactly how I envisioned my life to go. Absurd even, though this was pretty plain compared to everything else that had happened.

My feet were sore. Even after taking a short break to air them out and wrap them in cloth. At least I wasn’t lugging the extra weight of my travel pack, a fact my shoulders and back were infinitely grateful for. I had left most of my belongings in a room at the closest tavern I could find to the west gate. The place itself was shabby and my room smelled like sweat and grime left by occupants’ past, but I was hardly in the mood to find better quarters. Time had been running short and it was the place I trusted myself to be able to find my way back to in the middle of the night.

My stomach growled again. I recalled the smell of roasted stew in the inn. There mugs too, full of beer or mead. I licked my chapped lips and pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. Hopefully, it would be available once the night’s mission ended.

The walls came into sight. Fires flickered from the guard posts above, patrolled by the occasional soldier. The gate itself was open and I could see campfires litter the landscape from the vagrant camps outside the city. Beyond that, everything devolved into an endless swirl of black and gray.

A gust of wind blew past, and I shivered as the cold air sent goosebumps up my arms. I had an old coat that Aunt Tiana bought for me that I had left at my quarters in the Badlands. At the moment, I wished I had it on, less out of sentiment and more to avoid the chill. I could bear another night wandering in the cold, after all I managed for at least a few weeks. However, it was enough for me to make better clothes a higher priority the next time I would get to scrounge for supplies.

A little ways from the gate were several figures huddled together with torches. They weren’t guards. The helmets were shaped differently and they were dressed in muted black and brown. The Blackstone Irregulars from the looks of it. I stepped towards them.

As I got closer, their plate armor flickered in the firelight. The wind didn’t seem to bother them. Fur puffed out of the creases around their breastplates. I felt a tinge of envy at their warm clothes.

Then I noticed another. I almost didn’t catch him, if it wasn’t for the odd motions I saw in the shadow of a building. He was perched on a crate by the others, but outside of torchlight. As I got closer, I recognized him by his lean form and the shawl that wrapped around his face like a mask. It was the fighter from earlier, the one with the daggers. I think Knives was what they called him by. I couldn’t see his eyes but I felt his gaze following my movements.

Then the rest of the group took notice of my approach. One of the individuals in the circle shifted toward my direction.

“Eratus,” said Taoran as I stepped into torchlight. “Glad you made it.”

“Here in time?” I said.

“You ain’t Balt,” said one of the mercenaries. “Who are you?”

“Balt is… occupied with other matters at the moment,” said Taoran. “Eratus bested him in the fighting pit this afternoon and is taking his place.”

“What?” the mercenary said. “This little wilder here beat that big lugger up?”

“I saw it with my own eyes Tom,” said Taoran.

Tom craned his neck forward into the torchlight to get a better look at me, and in turn I got a better look at him. His helmet obscured most of his features but not everything. His jaw was lopsided, probably from a fight and his nose was crooked, also probably from a fight. Scratches and pocks marred his cheeks. This man had been through some tough times.

“You look a bit lightly equipped,” he said, pointing at my clothes.

“I travel light,” I said as the wind billowed again. I really wished I had that coat.

Tom laughed. “Whatever you say. Not judging.”

“Before we go,” Taoran interrupted. “Can you lot introduce yourselves to Balt’s replacement?”

“Fair be it,” the mercenary said. “My name is Tom.”

“Bill,” said the second.

“Ed,” said the third.

Even with the poor visibility I could barely tell Bill or Ed or Tom from each other. All three of them sounded the same, wore the same clothes, and were even the same height. All of them had swords on as well.

“Eratus,” I said, not bothering to remember to stick names to faces. “Nice to meet you all”

The only person who didn’t introduce themself was the lone figure perched on the crate. His head drawn to the ground.

“And that is Knives,” said Taoran, pointing towards him. “Hey! Introduce yourself.”

Knives looked at me, and merely nodded.

“He… isn’t much of a talker,” said Taoran. “But he is one mean fighter. He is new, just like yourself.”

“So,” one of the mercenaries said. “What is this off-the-books job you got for us boss?”

“That,” replied Taoran. “Will be explained later. For now, we go past the city. I’ll lead the way.”

“Bleh,” said the mercenary. “Probably another scavenger escort.”

“Scavenger escort?” I asked.

“Just a kind of job where you keep scavengers off. Too many keen folks nowadays looking to pay for their next meal out of people on the road. Which is why they hire us to keep them off,” another mercenary replied.

“Is it true how much this job is going to fess up?” said a mercenary. “30 silvers?”

“I could spend an entire bloody month drinking and whoring with that,” another replied.

“Hope we get some action tonight,” said the third. “Usually the ones that try have some coin on them. I always consider it a little bonus ripe for the taking.”

“Right… ” I said. 

“Enough talking,” said Taoran. “Let’s get going. Keep your eyes out. Tom you are with me up front. Knives, Eratus you two are in center. Bill and Ed, you have the rear.”

He was putting the two newest, and I guessed the least trustworthy individuals in the center where they could be watched by the others. I couldn’t blame him and wasn’t going to complain either. Being in the center was always the safe place while traveling. If you were the lead, you run into traps from up front, in the back you get ambushed from behind.

“Got it,” I replied. Everyone else gave a verbal acknowledgement while Knives only nodded, and leapt off the crate before stepping next to me. If his skill in the fighting pit was any indicator, I now only had one side to worry about.

We stepped off, past the gate. The guards themselves didn’t seem to mind us as we left, and were half-asleep by the looks of it.

The only sounds as we passed the tents outside the city were the steady shrills of infants. I grimaced with discomfort, resisting the instinct to help. Nobody else in the patrol seemed to mind it. Maybe this was just the way things were in this world. The cries dissipated as we gained distance, replaced by the whirls of the wind and the rustle of grass along the plains.

It was a dark world out here. The only color except black or gray came from our torches. The hair on my skin crawled, and it wasn’t just from the wind. I hated night patrols for a reason. It was like being in the tunnels, but worse. At least there you only had to worry about what was in front or behind you. Here, an attack could come from any direction. The torches themselves only made us easy targets.

My nerves were also frayed from the voices of the two mercenaries behind us. It was Bill and Ed from Taoran’s orders.

“Air is piss cold out here.”

“Yea, I’m gonna go warm myself up at The Pearl after this.”

“Didn’t you get thrown out the last time you went? Coulda sworn they said you were banned from ever showing your face.”

“Not once I have 30 silvers in hand. You know what they say. Women love coin, whores even more so.”

“Eh, I’ll probably join up as well. I’m going for Banca. She’s Orlesian. I hear she does a doozy from a friend of mine.”

“Heh, that does sound nice. Give her nice Ferelden romp. Though I do prefer the elves, they do a better job, cheaper too.”

“Do they even knife-ears there?”

“Saw a few through the window.”

“What about you? Eratus, was it?” I think they were pointing towards me.

“Hm?” I replied.

“You got a favorite?” asked Bill. Or maybe it was Ed.

“A favorite what?” I replied.

“Oh come on. You know. Brothel.”

“Don’t have one and don’t care,” I replied. The two of them reminded me of your standard run-of-the-mill Alliance soldier. When their attention wasn’t centered on fighting it was either gambling, booze, or prostitutes.

“What! You ain’t a eunuch, are you?”

“No. And none of your business.”

“Pheh. Suit yourself.”

That was the end of that, but they kept talking. Damn loud too. I was expecting Taoran to get them to shut up. With their yammering, everything would be able to hear us from miles away too.

Instead, our leader was having his own conversation with Tom ahead, something to do with the fighting pits. Even the so-called adventurers we hired back home had more discipline than this.

At least Knives kept his mouth shut.

Gradually, their voices were drowned out by the sound of waves in the distance.

The plains drew down and dropped to a cliff. Beyond it the ocean glimmered with specks of moonlight reflecting off the waves. The cliff stretched on for miles to the left and the right, murky water shifting to and fro with flashes of white every time it crashed against the rocks.

At the edge of the cliffside were four figures standing by a cart. There was also a ship floating in the distance.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected lifeforms with arcane capabilities ahead. They will be aware of my presence.”**

“What?” I asked. “What are we supposed to do then?”

**“They will not be able to detect me so long as I remain inactive.”**

“Alright then.”

No wonder Taoran was so secretive about this. There was a mage involved. What was one of them doing here?

The breeze became stronger as we stepped closer. I resisted the urge to shiver. The figures ahead wore cloaks that concealed their faces and gave them a shade-like appearance. Two of them stood larger than the others, and there was a glint of steel under their clothes. There were two smaller ones, one was carrying a staff.

Taoran stopped, looking back to us. “We have arrived, I don’t want a single word from any of you while we are on this job.”

All the mercenaries nodded in silence, along with me. We approached the group on the cliffside.

In the blink of an eye, one of the figures had the bow ready with an arrow nocked in our direction. My hand went to my sword while the other formed the beginning of a barrier seal. I didn’t want to reveal my abilities but it was a better course of action than dying. I could hear the shrill scrape of metal as the other mercenaries drew their weapons.

“Hold! Do not raise arms!” Taoran Hawkwind yelled. He took out a gold medallion, shimmering in the moonlight. “I believe we have a contract.”

“Not one step closer,” the figure said. I couldn’t see under her hood but it was definitely a woman.

“Now, now Devera,” a coarse voice croaked. The one with the staff stepped forward, lowering her bow. “Please lower your weapon. You are frightening our guests.”

“I am sorry, my master,” she said, obeying his words.

The stranger with the staff then stepped toward us. He removed his hood. It was a man, his head shaven clean of any hair save for a groomed mustache and beard. There was something… unnatural about him. It reminded me of one of the strikingly realistic impressions of a human face shaped and painted with clay. Something that resembled a human and at the same time deeply inhuman.

“Apologies,” he said. “We are unfamiliar with this land and its customs. We just arrived on shore. It is only natural that my dear servant would be protective. May I take a closer look?”

Nobody else seem troubled by his explanation as to how they disembarked from a cliffside. Either that or the mercenaries were keeping shut about it. Alamere used to talk about whole libraries hovering with levitation spells in Silvermoon, so magic was probably the answer. I kept my lips sealed. No need to let on my suspicions.

“Of course,” said Taoran, stepping towards the man. Devera fidgeted as he drew close.

The man squinted at the seal, then looked back at Taoran with a satisfied smile.

“Ah, I see our mutual benefactor has made good on his promise,” he said. “You are the Blackstone Irregulars, I presume?”

“We are,” Taoran replied, putting away the seal.

“And I take it you understand that… our visit here requires a degree of discretion?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Taoran said. “We regard the privacy of our clients most highly.”

The man looked behind Taoran and gazed at us, almost like he was trying to judge whether we were trustworthy or not. He maintained a neutral expression throughout. It was impossible to determine whether he was satisfied or displeased.

“Good.” The man raised his hand. “Nobody is to touch the wagon, let alone inquire about the contents. We shall follow in your stead.”

The two large cloaked figures drew up the wagon. The contents of which were concealed by cloth. Devera slung the bow back in place.

“Let us be on our way then…”

We departed the cliffside in silence. Taoran led the way ahead with Tom. Knives and I walked right behind him. The strangers traveled behind us, with Bill and Ed in the rear.

I was uneasy.

There was at least one mage here, maybe more. I saw what the last mage I ran into here could do. The memory of that… thing was still fresh on my mind. This wasn’t my world but I had no intention of assisting in anything that could be deemed malicious. Given this trip was happening late at night- and out of sight - told me that whatever was happening was against the local laws, or the templars.

Then again, the templars hadn’t leant much sympathy for their cause either. The way I saw them handle the situation back in the forest was horrific. It had been murder. For all I knew, perhaps this was just another mage trying to survive in a world that persecuted their kind. Why would they come to the city, though?

The thoughts kept racing in my head, until I decided to put a stop to it. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, to make any rash decisions tonight. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. My obligation was getting back home alive, and for that I needed coin. This was all this was. Just a means to an end. 

Del was silent, which only added to my unease. I didn’t realize how I depended upon his ability to detect lifeforms and differentiate threats until now.

We turned around a hill, and came to a wreckage of wagons blocking the road. A few bodies were laying by the ground.

Taoran stepped up to one of the bodies. “That’s odd,” he said. “This wasn’t-“

“Boss watch out!” Tom dove and tackled Taoran away, right as the “corpse” had sprung up and slashed a sickle where Taoran’s foot was a moment ago. It started another swing when I felt an arrow swerve past me and into the attacker’s head. The man dropped down, dead.

I looked back to see Devera with her bow out and another arrow nocked.

The remaining bodies sprung up, blades at the ready. I could hear steps through the plains, the sound of people approaching from all sides.

Taoran and Tom got up from the ground. “Ambush!” they yelled.

I drew my sword and noticed Knives take his daggers out. The air was filled with the shrill scrape of swords being drawn.

I saw the outline of a man rapidly approaching me. His weapon was raised high. As he stepped into torchlight, I noticed it was a… shovel?

The weapon swung down and I blocked it with my sword. The wooden handle of the shovel crashed into the mithril blade and cracked in two. While the man stared at his now useless weapon, my fist collided with his face. He fell to the ground. It didn’t kill him, but it would be enough to keep him out of the fight.

It was chaos. Enemies were charging at us from all sides. Visibility was poor. All around me were shifting blades, clashing steel, and whirls of movement. There was no telling where the next attack would come. The best thing to do now was to stay focused on the threats in front, trust everyone else to protect my flanks, make the decision help when needed.

Another man rushed at me, wielding a sickle. He was slashing in a blind fury. I dodged back a few steps before catching it with my sword and whipping the weapon out of his hands. As the sickle flew off, I kicked the man with my boot, sending him staggering into the night.

Taoran and Tom were handling themselves well. Fighting off any foes that stepped too close. Several attackers pushed around use toward the wagon guarded by the strangers.

I was about to step toward them to help before I saw the scene unfold. Devera fired arrows at the approaching bandits with near perfect accuracy. They whistled into the darkness, followed by yelps as they found their mark. I had no idea how she was able to see so well in the dark.

Three of the bandits managed to encircle one of the cloaked figures. One of the men swung a hammer at the figure. There was a flash as a sword cut through the wooden handle and chopped the attacker in half. The remaining men turned tail and tried to run, but the cloaked figure was faster. His blade fell twice and two headless bodies fell to the ground. His compatriot was doing the same on the other side of the wagon.

The bald man did nothing. He simply stood there, with excitement in his eyes at the carnage, like he was watching an act of theater or a play.

There was no time to worry about the perverseness of the people we were escorting. My attention turned back to the frontline, where another man rushed towards me, this time with a hoe. I dispatched him like I did with the others.

It was strange. Their attack was disjointed and lacked coordination. The weapons too were odd. Shovels. Hammers more suited for farmwork than battle. 

Knives was up against two opponents holding rakes. He deftly dodged and parried their blows, before dragging his knife through a man’s arm, sending him sprawling to the ground. He was about to finish off his next opponent when another appeared out of sight, holding a sickle up high.

“Look out!” I yelled and rushed forward, but I wasn’t fast enough.

Knives ducked away from the rake and into the blade of the sickle. Blood splattered through the air. He gasped, dropping to the ground, clutching his wounded side.

The man with the rake raised his hands in a final blow when I slammed into him, knocking him into the darkness. The one with the sickle swung and I blocked it with the flat of my sword then punched him in the face. He went down, blood trickling from his nose.

There were no more foes nearby. I looked back down at the injured mercenary.

“You okay?” I asked and offered a hand.

He slapped it away. One hand grasping the wound then grabbed his remaining knife before leaning back up.

Well, I was only trying to help.

The fighting soon drew to a close, as the remaining attackers were taken down or had fled. Corpses and wounded men surrounded us. Taoran and the remaining mercenaries were stepping around, finishing off the wounded. Nobody on our side had fallen. Tom or one of the other mercenaries finished off another wounded and immediately begin rummaging through his belongings. He took the contents and put them in his pockets.

“You know,” said Tom as he removed his sword from a corpse. “I’ve lived through my fair share of ambushes. But playing dead? Unbelievable. You almost got hamstrung boss.”

Taoran looked less than amused, grabbing one of the fallen men by the cuff of his shirt.

“You picked the wrong target.”

“Please!” the man said. “We-We weren’t trying to hurt no one.”

“Too bad.” He let the man go and raised his sword high.

“No! Don’t!”

Taoran’s sword fell, silencing him for good. I winced. The men were preying on travelers but these seemed more like an act of desperation, not vehemence.

I looked away from the looting. This was just another job. Instead I focused my attention toward Knives. He stood to the side, one hand over the area the sickle struck him.

I tossed him a cloth roll from my belt pouch. It landed on the ground in front of him. “Here,” I said. “Wrap yourself up.”

The cloaked figure didn’t respond, but he did pick up the roll. He slowly wrapped it around the wound. The bloodstain on his cloak looked ugly and jagged. The man clearly didn’t want my help though.

The strangers weren’t taking part in the looting. They assembled themselves back in formation around the wagon. The bald man stepped towards one of the wounded. He crouched down at the terrified man, lifting up his chin with a finger.

“Hm… ,” he said. “Malnourished as expected, but in otherwise good health. Yes… this shall be good stock.”

“Everything okay?” Taoran said, wiping the blood off his sword on the clothes of a corpse.

“It is,” the bald man replied. “I must commend your skill in handling the situation. It was most impressive.”

The bald man let go of the unmoving wounded, leaving him to slowly bleed out on the ground. He looked at the wreckage blocking the way ahead.

“It appears we are at an impasse for now.”

“We’ll have it cleared out in a moment,” said Taoran.

“Actually…” The bald man gestured toward one of the cloaked figures. He reached into the wagon and brought out a bag, that jingled with coins. He walked over and offered it to Taoran.

“Your payment as promised,” the bald man said.

“But we haven’t made it to our destination,” Taoran said.

“We will be able to find our way there without your assistance. For now, “he looked at the corpses surrounding him. “We have found ourselves in the midst of an opportunity.”

“Very well, then,” Taoran said, accepting the bag.

“We shall be in touch,” said the bald man. “There will be more work required.”

“Come on lads,” said Taoran. “Let’s return home.”

“Bleh,” said one of the mercenaries. “Only found five coppers on the corpses. Nothing else worth taking.”

The deed was done and we left the strangers amidst the corpses. I felt an ominous feeling in my guy as they grew more distant.

The west gate of Denerim was now in sight, along with the light from campfires in the outskirts. I thanked the Light. Each step was a step towards food and rest, and away from the strangers. I had little to no intention of joining on any excursions involving them in the near future.

Knives suddenly tripped and fell to the side. His hand clutching the side of his waist.

“Eh,” said Tom. “Is he alright?”

I moved over to the fallen man. His breathing was shallow. Blood slowly dripped out of his side.

The remaining mercenaries came back from the commotion. “What is going on?” Taoran asked.

“Knives got wounded a while back,” I said, stepping next to him.

Taoran moved a torch to get a closer look at the wound then sighed.

“That’s a lot of bleeding.”

“Looks like he won’t make it,” said Ed. “Guess he won’t need that silver then.” He reached down for the sack tied to the man’s belt. Knives shirked back.

“Leave him be,” I said.

“What?” said Ed. “If he is going to die, he ain’t going to need the coin on his way to meet the Maker.”

“I’ll take care of him.” I said.

“You just want his coin to yourself,” Ed said. “I spoke first so I call dibs.”

“You will leave him be,” I replied.

“And what are you going to do about it? Cause I don’t take orders from fresh-meat,” said Ed, his hand creeping toward his sword.

“I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” said Bill. “He took out Balt after all.”

Ed thought about it and drew back down.

“What do you want to do, boss?” asked Tom.

“Leave him on the road,” said Taoran. “He earned his coin, but I ain’t paying for a healer.”

“Are you seriously going to let one of your own die?” I asked.

“Maker helps those who help themselves. It’s all part of the profession you see,” said Taoran as he turned back towards Denerim. “Besides, I’ve lost more coins than I can count from his wins at the fighting pits. Barely won it back today.”

The rest of them turned to follow him. All except for me.

“I’ll taking care of him,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” Taoran replied.

They trudged onwards, leaving Knives and I on the side of the hill. I kneeled next to him and placed my torch close to the dirt.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, how does assisting this lifeform further our pursuits?”**

I guess the Lorekeeper was active again. Though he hadn’t made it known since we encountered the mages.

“I don’t have a good answer for you but I’m not leaving him to die here,” I said. Funny, especially after witnessing what was essentially mass murder just a few hours ago. I was almost complicit in it. However, there was enough death for this night.

Del didn’t reply. Troublesome, but I welcomed the silence. I had a life to save now.

I could barely see even with torchlight but the glimmer of blood was present. The liquid was seeping through the bandage. This wasn’t good. The way he tied the bandage was doing nothing to stem it, and I doubted the physical exertion from the walk had helped. I reached into my belt to grab my last cloth roll.

My hand moved towards the wound. He weakly tried to slap it away.

“I can either help you or leave you here to die,” I said. “Which will it be?”

Knives didn’t respond, but his land limped down to the ground.

“I’m going to have to control the bleeding,” I said. “I only have a wad of cloth left but I’ll need something to wrap it off. I’m going to need some more fabric.” I reached for his shawl.

He tried to push my hand away.

“Do you want to live or die?” I said. “I don’t care what you look like under there.”

He dropped his hand, slowly. I couldn’t tell if that was a yes or if he was too weak to resist.

I carefully unwrapped the shawl, revealing a young face and long hair tied into a bun. I recognized the sharp pointed ears anywhere. An elf, a female elf at that. She looked barely older than those Dalish I met weeks ago, probably the same age as that girl I met on the streets this afternoon.

Well, at least I knew why she kept himself wrapped up. Something told me an armed elf wouldn’t be treated too kindly out in public. Especially one dabbling in mercenary work.

I had questions but they could wait until later. I had to focus on the task at hand. I unsheathed my sword and cut the cloth in half lengthwise. I removed the bandage and layered it until it became something akin to a pad.

I pressed the pad against the wound. She gasped. I lifted her back with a hand to make space as I wrapped the torn shawl over the pad and around her. After several rotations, I tied it down over the makeshift dressing, keeping pressure on the wound. That should keep the bleeding down.

Sweat trickled down her brow and her head tilted to the side.

“Hey!” I said, tapping her cheek. “I need you to stay awake.”

It was futile. Her breathing was getting shallower by the second. She was going into shock. There was nothing more I could do out in the grass. She needed better care.

I entertained the idea of trying a healing seal, before shutting it off. It hadn’t worked back then and it probably wouldn’t work now. Calling upon the light right in the middle of the plains would just alert everyone to my existence.

I didn’t know how healing worked in this world either, nor did I know where to find one. Maybe she did.

“I need you to talk,” I said. “If you go to sleep here, you’ll never wake up. You have family in the city? Someone I can reach to?”

“Ta..”

“Ta?” I walked toward the city.

“Tabris…”

“Alright Tabris. I can’t do much but where should I take you?”

Her head drooped down and she fell unconscious, dashing my hopes.

Still, there was still another option. It was going to come at a cost though. No matter. A life was worth it.

I turned around, lifted her onto my back, and rushed toward the city.


	15. City Life

**_“I did a lot of things in my first day in the city that I would have once sworn never to do. I participated in a street fight, joined a mercenary outfit, and participated in all manner of activities against local law. At least I saved a life…”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



Birds chirped above, their shadows gracing the ground through the forest canopy. The warm embrace of midsummer gave the trees their renowned golden sheen. Flowers bloomed among the grass. Pale peaceblooms, scarlet mageroyals, and bright silverleaves. I remembered each of their herbal properties. I guess the knowledge rubbed off on me after years of picking them for the local alchemists.

I spotted a bright purple tulip growing from the side of a tree. Kingsblood. Rare and used in a number of the more expensive potions and poultices. I entertained the idea of stepping off the path to pick them, but I decided otherwise. For now, I just cherished their sight. Beauty and utility joined as one.

A gurgling sound, that resembled speech but not quite, echoed through the forest. I turned toward the source and saw Murlocs, the midget-sized fish-people, swimming and walking around their small huts by Crystal Lake. A nuisance to the farmers, annoyance to the guards, and entertainment for the passing travelers. Harmless, so long as one didn’t bother them.

Elwynn Forest was as I remembered when I left years ago. Had it really been that long? It seemed like only yesterday that I was a bright-eyed whelp journeying out to the greater world. I had seen so much since then. The Arathi highlands, where humanity’s first nation was founded and Tirisfal Glades, home of the Knights of the Silver Hand. The underground dwarven complex of Ironforge and the ever bright elven capital of Silvermoon. More remained out there such as the mechanized city of Gnomeregan, the spires of Dalaran, the islands of Kul’Tiras, the jungle port of Booty Bay. My journeys weren’t all excitement, but the world I knew now was larger than I had ever dreamed. Still, nowhere brought the same warm feeling as this quaint forest. As the saying goes, there was no place quite like home.

The walls guarding Northshire basin came into view. Chunks of stone were still missing from when the Horde invaded decades ago, but a lot had been repaired since then. Beyond it was home and all the familiar faces that came with it. Marshall Mcbride and Brother Sammuel. Aunt Tiana and Katrina. Even old Milly Osworth. I wonder if she ever grew out of her antics. She laughed when I said I was going to be a paladin and I laughed when she said she would own all of the vineyards one day. I could only imagine the look on her face when she saw pimply snot-nosed Eratus. 

I took my first steps towards the gate.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood.”**

“Wuh?” I jolted awake, as the dream faded and reality set in. Every single joint was creaking and not in an enjoyable way. My back was as stiff as a board. I could feel the puffiness of my eyes. The blisters on my feet flared.

 **“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood,** **there is hostile intent originating from the lifeform you have preserved.”**

Besides Del’s voice I could hear wood knocking against wood. I blinked through the grime crust and grime on my eyes.

I was in my room at the inn, sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall. Captain Falmore’s sword, the pommel stained with ground up ghost mushrooms, rested against my leg. A few bowls were strewn about. One filled with water, while the other was caked with the herbal paste. Everything started to come back. Last night’s rush, the argument with the innkeep, silver for supplies and a little extra to keep him quiet, trying to remember how much water I was supposed to mix with the ghost mushrooms, treating the elf’s wound.

Everything except passing out. I got up from the wall. No wonder my back hurt. There was another bang as I saw my bed shift. Oh, that was what that was.

She was lying flat on the bed, the sheets over her. Linen cloth bound each of her limbs to a bedpost. In hindsight, it might have been a bit severe. However. I wasn’t leaving myself vulnerable without some assurances of safety. The last time I did, I woke up in a cage the last time. 

On the flip side, her efforts seemed to indicate that she had healed rather nicely.

I stood up, every joint creaking with outrage. Light peered through the window. Was it already morning? I yawned, feeling my chapped lips and parched throat. The elf’s frantic eyes noticed me and she screamed.

I reacted by grabbing one of the bundles of cloth and shoving it into her mouth. I did not need to draw any more attention.

“Hey!” I said. “I need you to calm down.”

She paused, for a moment. Her brown eyes narrowed with rage through strands of unkempt hair. Then she resumed shrieking, albeit muffled from the gag, and struggled with greater vigor.

“Look,” I said. “I just saved your life.”

I turned and drew up her coin pouch. She paused again as her eyes widened in recognition. I guess mercenaries did love their coin.

“This is yours,” I said, dropping it by her head. “I didn’t take anything.”

I removed the gag at which point she spat in my face. I put it her again before she could start screaming.

“Look,” I said, wiping the slime off my face. It took a lot of willpower for me to stay calm. “I didn’t do any harm. I very well could have let you bleed out but I didn’t. Hence why you are here.”

I could see her mind play out last night’s events as the anger in her eyes evaporated. She stopped struggling.

“I’m going to remove the wrap around your mouth,” I said. “Please do not scream, I don’t need another commotion. Are we at an understanding, Tabris?”

The mention of the familiar name caused her eyes to widen in surprise. She nodded in resigned agreement.

“Good,” I said, removing the gag.

She gasped, breathing heavily.

“Don’t exert yourself too hard. I need to check your wound to see if the paste did its work.”

“You… what?” she asked.

“I treated you with an… old family recipe.” I probably could have explained that better. “I think your wound healed but I need to be sure.”

Half the ghost mushrooms that I picked from the caverns went into that paste. The same amount would have paid a noble’s ransom back on Azeroth. Now was not the time to fret however.

I flipped over her blanket. The bandage had shifted away from where the cut along her waist. Probably from all her movement. Where there once was a ragged gash was now healthy pink skin. No scars either. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a gambit; I had no idea if the mushrooms worked on elven anatomy here the same way they did back home. Even still, thank the Light I got the mixture right. Ghost mushrooms offered little room for error. Too much or little, both were poison.

“W-who are you?” she said. “Wait, my clothes.”

“Just someone helping another person in need,” I said. “And don’t worry I’m not going to go off telling everyone who you really are.”

Then I realized at that moment where I got all the extra fabric for fresh bandages. She was naked from the britches up under the blanket. Blood flushed out of my cheeks and I looked away while moving the blanket back into place.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, she spoke up.

“And I am supposed to take the word of a shem?

There we go with the insults. “I would never demean myself to forcing myself on a child,” I said. “Besides, what were you doing, volunteering for a job like that?”

She blushed, probably with embarrassment. “None of your beeswax shem,” she replied, then looked at the binds. “Are you going to let me go?”

“Well, you healed quite nicely, so I will,” I said and began to remove the ties from her hands and feet.

Once she was free, she slipped to the side of the bed, keeping the blankets wrapped around her. She stood up to my height. One hand slipped to grab her coin pouch.

“One last thing,” I turned to grab her daggers. “You-“

I had no time to register as the coin pouch smacked me in the cheek. However, that didn’t hurt as much as when her knee came up to my groin. My vision flared and I doubled over, dropping the daggers on the ground.

She slipped on her shoes and ran out the door, leaving me on the floor.

Whatever Del said about stamina, it didn’t mean resilience to pain. Especially not when you were kicked in the balls.

“Uhnnnnnnn,” I moaned. Curled up.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Are you well?”**

“Yes… Yes I’m fine,” I lied. Thoughts of rage and anger swelled up again. I imagined horrible things against the perpetrator of my suffering.

**“Understood. It appears that your judgment on this lifeform was faulty.”**

“Don’t… remind me.”

Moments passed and the pain finally subsided, replaced with a dull ache. I slowly lifted myself up. I stepped out the doorway, and into the common area. The elf was nowhere to be seen, the double doors of the inn swinging in her departure.

The innkeeper stood behind the counter, wiping an empty wooden mug. He peered at me, then laughed.

“Guessing your tumble last night didn’t go so well.”

“No,” I said, leaning against the wall. “No it did not.”

“Well she just ran away with one of the blankets. That’s going to be another silver.”

“Damn elves…”

Things were better by the time I left. I strolled down the road, belching as a bit of the morning stew burbled up my throat from my bloated stomach. My skin was free of grime and dirt after a cold dunk in the bucket of water that people here considered a bath. It was a fry cry from the magically heated showers on Alliance camps but it beat washing in a river.

I had departed the inn, satisfied and happier than usual in spite of the morning’s events. A full stomach and clean body tended to have remarkable effects on one’s mood.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. What will be our next steps?”**

“Well first I need to report in with the other mercenaries. We are going to need money if we want to go anywhere or do anything.”

**“Understood.”**

“Really? No other questions?”

**“The packets of minerals you reference possess value to the lifeforms of this world. They are essential to the maintenance of your organic faculties and our continued survival.”**

Well that was a surprise. It seemed like Del was starting to understand things, albeit with overly complicated language. I doubted he would stop using doing so, but it was better than being pestered with questions every encounter.

The morning’s events left me little time to plan things out for what lay ahead. The elf was gone, that was for sure. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again now that her identity was compromised. Not that it mattered much to me. There were bigger things to worry about.

For now, it was best to focus on essentials. Secure continued income through mercenary work, shop for supplies, learn more about this world, and most importantly figure out a way home. Probably starting with whatever that being Flemeth had said.

I did not trust her, every single one of my gut instincts told me not too, and I suspected she was not leading me to the full story. Still, I had no other idea on how to get back.

I reached the marketplace, managing not to get lost this time. It was still the vibrant and busy whirlpool of activity that I remembered from yesterday, though less daunting now that I had better feel for things. I stepped into the crowd.

The trick as it turns out was not unlike swimming in the sea. The key advice being to move with the currents and not against them. Here the currents were dictated by the larger caravans and trade wagons. Everyone moved aside as the large convoys moved through the square. All I had to do was follow behind them. Even if they didn’t move straight to my destination, it was far faster than trying to beat the waves of people.

After a few maneuvers from caravan to caravan, I stepped back to where the Blackstone Irregulars were.

There was a crowd but no fights going on like yesterday. Dozens of men and women stood in front of a small pocket of buildings, probably here for the same reason as I.

It reminded me of a time when we hired adventurers to assist us in removing a dire wolf infestation. The group lacked any kind of uniformity, carrying and slinging weapons of all sorts. Swords, bows, axes, warhammers, flails, and a few crossbows.

Unlike the adventurers however, there were no hunter pets, mage staves, or wands. No gnomish contraptions or gnomes for that matter. No travelpacks filled with potion bottles. No guns either. I recalled the black-powder for explosives was invented by a dwarven smith and mage a century ago. I wonder if it ever came to be in this world.

They all had armor though. I put that on the top of my list of priorities after this. I tried to not look so out of place and I stepped into the gathering. Nobody seemed to mind my presence.

Time passed. Taoran and the others from last night were nowhere to be seen. Much to my relief. The mercenaries talked amongst each other, in the typical black humor of soldiers. Mostly, tales of exploits that were probably exaggerated by several magnitudes. Some called each other out on that. Others laughed. All it did was remind me of how alone I was in this world. The Lorekeeper didn’t count as company.

The talking died down as a large bulletin board was wheeled out by two men. They were followed by the Blackstone liaison from yesterday and several women holding stacks of papers.

“Alright lads and lasses!” the Blackstone liasion’s voice boomed out. “The week’s jobs are posted on the board. If any of them strike your fancy, you come to the clerks to get onboarded. Remember! No onboard no pay! If you can’t read, you come to me and we’ll find something for you.”

A few folks snickered. Most did not.

“Now play nice and keep a line or else they’ll be hell to pay!” The two men removed the cover from the billboard, revealing hundreds of individual pieces of parchment. The crowd rushed over to the board, probably to land the best jobs out there.

I stood in the back of the line, not wanting to get caught up in the mess. White parchment came off the board in droves, as the mercenaries picked out their jobs for the week. There were a few conflicts when two people tried to grab the same piece of parchment at the same time. It never came to a brawl though, much to my surprise. The guards would step forward and keep order which made me wonder how good they were if they were able to keep professional fighters under control.

The line dwindled and the gathering dispersed as the mercenaries got their jobs and left. By the time I made it up there, there were plenty left. Demand for their services must be pretty high. Although given the state of things here, that was to be expected. My eyes drifted to the top.

_Looking for Armed Guards to Orzammar_

_HELP Wanted: Korcari Wilds Expedition_

_Noble Retainer Looking for Guides to Gwaren_

I had little to no idea where the Korcari Wilds, Orzammar, or Gwaren were but if the high pay was any indication the work was probably going to be dangerous. Almost all the jobs at the very top were taken by groups earlier as well. I turned my attention toward the middle.

_Merchant Requesting Extended Escort to Orlais_

_Travelers Looking for Strong Hands for Month-Long Voyage to Rivain_

All of the jobs here seemed like they involved a lot of travel. Something I had no time for. My eyes moved further down.

_Bakery Looking for Guard. Hourly at Half-Silver for Services._

Mundane and local. Perfect. I snapped up the parchment from the billboard and walked over to the Blackstone liaison and the clerks. They had set themselves at several desks.

“Ah why if it ain’t you?” the Blackstone liaison said.

“Nice to meet you again,” I replied. I was not in the mood for conversation.

“So how did your little foray with the boss go?”

“Not too bad. Wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Well don’t get cocky. Jobs like that don’t come in very often and if they do, it is usually through me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Watch it. You keep that attitude of yours and I’ll have you booted out faster than you come in.”

I turned to his clerk, putting the parchment with the job down. Before the woman could begin reading it, the Blackstone liaison scrapped up the piece of paper then looked back at me with a puzzled glare.

“This? You want to be an over glorified and underpaid watchdog?”

“Yep.”

“Whatever. Suit yourself.” He tossed the piece of parchment onto the ground then stepped away.

The woman reached down to grab the parchment. “Sorry about that. He’s a bit grouchy during the afternoon.”

“It’s alright,” I replied.

“Well let us get you sorted out then. What’s your name?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

She wrote it down on a scroll, along with the job, then handed the parchment back to me.

“She’ll be expecting you tomorrow.”

“She?”

“Madame Lebois. It is an Orlesian bakery. Pretty popular, especially among the nobility. Directions on the sheet.”

“Ah,” I said and took the parchment from her.

“One last thing, where can I get armor here? I’m a bit under-prepared.”

“Oh. Best place is the Emporium. It’s on the other side of the market, where all the smiths do business. It’s easy to spot.” She pointed toward the rising smoke in the sky.

“Also,” she whispered. “Look for Wade if you get there. He loves working with us lot. You might even be able to finagle a free set.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Safe travels!”

I arrived at the slew of buildings in the northern part of the marketplace that belched smoke from their chimneys. When I arrived, my ear rang with the clings and clangs of blacksmiths working metal. It wasn’t unpleasant. My living space in the Badlands was usually right by the dwarven smith attaches. I’d gotten used to the steady thrum and rhythm of hammers.

Most of the smiths here worked out in the open. All humans from the looks of it. That alone made me question the quality of the metalwork. If this was in Azeroth of course. Dwarves were the best smiths and anybody who could got dwarven handiwork for their weapons and armor. I didn’t see much in the quality of ingots either. No shining true-silver or light blue mithril or sturdy orange adamant. All I saw was ordinary gray steel judging by the armor, weapons, and shields out on display.

It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

I passed by the buildings, walking unnoticed by busy blacksmiths until one caught my eye. On the top of the door, someone had etched in Wade’s Emporium into the wood. I pushed past the door and was met with a sudden whiff of hot air mixed with soot and iron. There was the crackle of a furnace, and the sound of a solitary hammer striking an anvil.

“Hello?” I asked. In the absence of windows, the only light came from the furnace. A lone man was holding a bar against a furnace.

He stopped hammering and looked at me. His eyes took one look at the sword around my belt then he set his tools on the ground with a clang.

“Why hello there! Looking for something?” he asked, laying his tools to the side. He wiped the sweat off his brow with a rag then stepped over to me.

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for Wade. I’m with the Blackstone Irregulars.”

“The Blackstone Irregulars? Oh how marvelous! I take it you are here for armor?”

“Yes, in fact.”

“Splendid! It won’t cost you a single penny. I am always pleased to work with one of Raelnor’s lot.”

He walked around me, swerving his head to get a good idea of my dimensions. “I think I have a few sets in mind. I’ll be back in just a moment!”

Wade disappeared into another room. I could hear metal banging against metal through the wall. He stepped back, holding three breastplates under his arms.

“Here we are,” he said, putting them on the ground.

The one on the left looked like a leather vest that had a hundred steel plates sutured onto it. The one in the middle was standard scale armor over a chainmail vest. It looked less flexible than the one on the right, with better protection against arrows. The one in the far right was made of plate, similar to what I saw the rest of the Blackstone Irregulars wore, and what I was accustomed to.

“I’ll take a look at this one,” I said pointing towards the one on the right.

“Master Wade!” a man barged in from a door behind the counter, dropping a couple crates on the ground.

“Oh a customer!” he then said and stepped towards us. He was a spindly looking fellow, and was no smith judging by his clean clothes and hands.

“Name is Herren,” he said. “I help run the shop.”

He turned towards the blacksmith. “Master Wade, I brought the materials you ordered.”

“The whalebones? It will be perfect for my next creation! I must have a look!” He went over to pop open the crates, leaving Herren and I alone.

“I do hope Master Wade wasn’t too much of a bother,” Herren said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “He tends to get a bit too excited with his craft you see.”

“It was no issue I assure you,” I replied.

Then he looked at the array of breastplates on the ground then frowned.

“Here for armor?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I was thinking of taking the plate on the right.”

“Well that is going to cost you. 20 silvers-“

“I’ll have none of that Herren!” interrupted Wade as he pried open the crates with a metal bar. “This fellow here is a Blackstone Irregular, and I won’t charge Raelnor’s lot for our business!”

“Master Wade,” said Herren. “We can’t have a business without transactions. We aren’t running a charity here, and we’ve already had issues meeting the new tax levies…”

“I will have none of that!” said Wade. “This is my shop! And I shall run it as I see fit.”

“Dear Andraste…” Herren shook his head and turned away.

“Wait,” I said. “Look, I’ll pay.”

“You will?” Herren said.

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t have the money for the plate but… How much for that one?” I pointed toward the leather coat riveted with steel plates.

“The brigandine?” said Herren. “That’ll be about five silvers.”

A third of my earnings from last night’s adventure. The coat didn’t look too sturdy, but I needed something. I wasn’t about to test how resilient my body was here.

“Wait,” said Wade. “I just told you. It is all free of charge.”

“It is alright. I’m a strong believer in fair trades,” I said. Well Aunt Tiana said it first.

“Excellent!” said Herren. “It is good to meet a man after my own heart. I’ll have the rest of the armor ready in a moment. Please wait right here.”

I walked away from the marketplace, wearing my newly acquired armor and my travelpack brimming with supplies. I had about six silvers left from the 30 after everything.

The brigandine as they called it fit surprisingly well. The thick leather was snug against my armpits and waist. Not to mention it doubled as a coat. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and the windchill didn’t cut through my body as it did yesterday. Wade snuck me a free pair of plate gauntlets and for my arms, which he essentially begged me to take. I could see why the clerk recommended him. Mercenaries probably all made a killing off of his generosity.

Other than that, I had gotten several rolls of bandages, a sewing kit, and several glass bottles filled with a red restorative poultice. I thought they were actual healing potions at first, until the storekeeper told me otherwise. Better than nothing though.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected an anomaly nearby.”**

“What? Where?”

**“Directly to your left. The resonation implies the source is of Titan origin.”**

A surge of I halted and turned to see a wide building with a violet roof. Violet was the favored color of mages, at least back on Azeroth. Was it the same here? There was a double door in front, and there didn’t seem to be much traffic going in or out.

“Would this ‘anomaly’ be a way back?”

**“That remains a possibility.”**

Hope surged within me, but I didn’t let my optimism get ahead of itself. Caution was advised. I stepped through the double doors.

The entire house was but a single room. A massive patterned carpet lay over the floor. On each wall were shelves with row after row of colorful and intricate looking items. At the end of the room stood a single man, with golden-red robes, staring blankly ahead.

“Greetings,” he said, with a complete lack of inflection or tone. “Welcome to the Wonders of Thedas.”

“Hello!” I replied.

“How many I be of assistance today.”

“Just taking a gander that’s all. Mind if I look around?”

“You may. Please let me know if I may be of assistance.”

I stepped toward one of the shelves. “Notice anything?” I mouthed.

**“I have detected energy signatures from several items but will need to be within closer physical proximity to identify them.”**

I walked around, staying as close as I could to the shelves without actually touching the items. Intricate and antique were the best words I could find to describe what I saw. An insect trapped in amber. A miniature castle. A jade figure shaped in the figure of… well, I saw plenty of drawings of that particular male appendage by bored soldiers.

The man at the counter said nothing. In fact, he continued to stare blankly ahead, a vacant expression on his face.

“What are these things?” I asked.

“They are an assortment of tools and artifacts collected from Thedas. They have been donated through the Circle of Magi and the Chantry for the purposes of raising funds.”

“Got it.”

So this was the remnants of someone’s spring cleaning. Stil, I had a feeling a few folks back home would have had a field day exploring this. Bluebeard mentioned he had a cousin in Ironforge who specialized in these things. I think they called themselves archeologists.

Then I noticed an entire shelf dedicated to an array of blue vials. A metal screen was sheathed over to prevent any prying hands from reaching in. I recognized the liquid from the vials I took from the templars and that was sitting in my room.

“What are these?” I asked.

“Liquid Lyrium,” the man replied. “They are restricted items and can only be released without a Chantry representative.”

“Ah. Got it,” I said. It was safe to conclude the ones sitting in my room were contraband. I’d have to do something about them. Getting rid of them entirely was probably the most prudent course of action.

I passed by more and more items. Nothing here looked like the mirror I found in the caverns or a portal back home.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have pinpointed the anomaly.”**

I stopped. The item in front looked like nothing more than an old worn piece of brick.

“Are you sure?” I mouthed.

**“Yes.”**

“Excuse me?” I asked the odd man behind the counter. “I’m interested in this item here.”

The man stepped away from the counter without a word. He maintained a smooth gait but kept that same vacant expression all the way. As he drew closer, I noticed the sun-shaped mark on his forehead. He turned and looked at the brick.

“Dwarven artifact. Its purpose is unknown but it was recovered from the Deep Roads centuries ago. It was discovered in a Chantry vault and was later moved to be sold to the greater public.”

It looked like an old brick to me. Still, if the Lorekeeper said it was useful...

“How much?”

“Five silver coins.”

Five silvers. As much as the armor that I was wearing or the sum total of all the supplies I bought. Five silvers for a piece of rock.

“Certainly,” I said, counting up the coins from my pouch. That left me with one silver. I handed it to the man. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the money. He began to turn back towards the counter.

“Do you have anything that resembles a large mirror?” I asked. “Something the size of a grown man?”

“We do not possess such an item,” he said. “All you see here in this room is what we have. We are restocked twice weekly, so it may be present then.”

“Er... okay.”

Before he left, he said one last thing.

“Am I unnerving?”

Well he honestly was. The way he spoke with a complete lack of any emotion was odd enough.

“A little bit.”

“I apologize then. It is a byproduct of the rite of tranquility. I am what you know as a tranquil.”

“Sorry… about that.

“It is alright. It was deemed necessary as I lacked the sufficient willpower to be a full-fledged magister.”

“And are you happy with how you are now?”

“I am not sure. I don’t feel much of anything anymore. However, I am content.”

“Well thanks for showing me around.”

“Have a good day.”

Was this what the templars were trying to put me through? If so, I was glad I escaped when I did. I had no care to end up like that. I departed the store.

I arrived back at the inn. It was empty, save a few quiet patrons minding their own business in the corner. The innkeeper stood behind the counter quietly cleaning beer mugs with a rag.

“Did she come back?” I asked.

“The elf?” the innkeeper said. “Nope, didn’t see a wink of her since this morning. I don’t think she is looking for another romp.”

“I told you I did not sleep with her.”

“Yea, sure you didn’t,” he laughed. I wasn’t amused.

The conversation ended there and stepped toward my room, closing the door behind me. The room was a mess, clattered bowls, blood, and torn fabric was strewn everywhere on the ground.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, what will be our plans now?”**

Well, first I’m cleaning things up. Then I’ll need to think things through. We don’t have anything to go off of other than whatever that… creature we met in the forest told us.”

**“Are you referring to the lifeform identified as Flemeth?”**

“Yea, that one.”

**“Understood. I agree with your assessment on the entity. We are in consensus.”**

**“** What about you? I got that useless pie- I mean artifact. Anything in there that you can sort out?

A projection of the mechanical gnome popped into existence in the room. Del’s avatar looked up to me.

**“It will take some time for me to analyze the object. I can begin now.”**

“Please do so,” I said. I placed the brick in the corner of the room and Del stood still in front of it, doing something to crack the code. I wasn’t so concerned about someone waltzing in on accident. The Lorekeeper was pretty good at keeping himself hidden, and could detect anyone approaching.

I tidied up the place. Rounded up the dirty bowls in stacks and gathered up the bloody rags into a pile. I noticed a pair of daggers on the floor. They belonged to the elf. I guess the innkeeper was right when he said she didn’t return. I picked them up.

They were special, if only judging by the carvings against the handle. Well, given the thanks she gave on her way out, I guess they were mine now. I needed a replacement for that mithril dagger anyway. The same one stolen by the Dalish.

By the time I got done cleaning, Del hadn’t finished analyzing. The projection stood in the corner, peering at the brick. I opened my journal readying to write down my thoughts and think through on the witch’s puzzle. However, days of poor sleep and the exertion from last night began to catch up. Fatigue began to assault my concentration in full force. Instead, I plopped onto the bed, hoping for dreams of home.


	16. The Baker and The Mother

**_“In spite of all the hardships, the people go on with their lives. I guess it is as the old saying goes. When there is a will, there is a way.”_ **

\- **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**

Pale unblinking blue eyes stared into mine. They were dead but the accusation in them was clear.

_“Why…”_

My own eyes shot open and I swerved upright from the bed.

I was back in the room. A drop of sweat gleamed down my cheek. My hand came up to wipe it away.

The faint aroma of stew wafting into the room eased my nerves. There were the sounds of footsteps from other guests outside along with the muffled voices of conversation in the level below.

I breathed deeply and slowly, just like how I was taught as an initiate. It was just a nightmare. A shadow of the past.

The straw pillow and mattress crinkled as I shifted out of the bed. I brushed off a few golden strands that had stuck to my back. My eyes drifted to the corner of the room where the brick that I bought yesterday sat undisturbed. The Lorekeeper’s projection was gone. 

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have finished extraction of the data from the artifact.”**

“Anything good?” I said after a yawn.

**“It will take me some time to process the information.”**

I stretched out my limbs, my joints cracking with each movement.

“How long?”

**“Duration estimated half-planetary rotation… translating… half a day.”**

Well hopefully he would have something useful by then. I, on the other hand, needed to clear my thoughts. A shower should help. Hopefully the bucket was free.

“Let me know if something comes up.”

***

I sat on a bench in the tavern’s main room and scratched my waist for perhaps the fourth time this morning. Whoever sewed this tunic had done a terrible job. There were flaps of extra cloth that chafed against my skin every time I moved. I should have paid closer attention before buying it at the market.

It was tempting to go back and change into my old clothes. However, they were now drying in my room. They were in dire need of a wash. For now, I endured the itchy brown tunic.

My journal was open on the table in front of me, and I was about to resume reading when a hand placed a bowl of stew and a spoon by it. I looked up to see the innkeeper, a fat man dressed in a brown apron with a wide brimmed beard and moustache. His lips were smiling but not his eyes. Ever since the night rushed into the inn with the elf on my back, he had been regarding me with suspicion.

“Here you go,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He began to turn but stopped. “You ain’t a templar, are you?”

“Pardon?”

“You look like one, and you know how to read. Only people who know how to read out here are the merchants, nobles, or those with the Chantry. You don’t look like the first two so I figured you were the third.”

“No, I am not.”

“Eh, didn’t mean to pry. Just curious that’s all. Enjoy your meal.”

Regardless of what he said, I had a feeling that he wasn’t going to stop prying. I should think of moving. Gossip spread quickly in places like these, and I didn’t want to draw any more eyes on myself.

I used the spoon to shove a scoop of the stew into my mouth. It was mostly tasteless, except a tinge of salt, but it filled me up. As gulped down my meal, I looked back through my journal, reviewing everything that had happened since I arrived.

The mirror-like object by which I entered this world was a portaI of some type. Alamere always talked about them. Apparently, they were all the rage and the most popular topic among the magisters of Dalaran before he left. I wasn’t aware of the specifics but Alamere always said portals bridged two places to allow travel. With enough power, their range could bridge worlds together such as the massive abandoned stone monument in southern Azeroth that the Horde used to invade.

The one I came through was probably destroyed, that much was certain. I recalled the shattered glass pieces I saw on the ground the moment I came through. It wasn’t like I could go around asking if there were any portals nearby. They’d probably take me as a complete madman or I’d get imprisoned on suspicions of practicing magic. A cold feeling crawled up my spine as I recalled the Tranquil.

The Lorekeeper had no idea if there were other such portals here, but suggested they could exist. I was tempted to ask him again, but decided otherwise. Since the last time we talked he had been quiet while processing whatever he gleaned from the brick. Besides, I could use a break from him talking in my head.

The only person or thing that believed me was that shapeshifter from the forest. Flemeth. I suspected she had ulterior motives yet her words were my only clue.

_There is an old chamber which will arm you with the tools that you need. Find the Maker’s bride in her house, and she will lead the way. What you ultimately desire and what shall return you whence you came, will be in the vaults of the magisters of old. Be wary though, for they were vain men, and were quite protective of their treasures._

In spite of the cryptic way she said it, the general gist wasn’t hard to figure it out. There was a portal or at least some way back home in a vault in the city. I had to find an old chamber first, which would lead me to said vault. Or at least provide me with whatever was necessary to access it.

However, I hadn’t a scant clue who this Maker’s bride was. Where was this house of hers? The warning at the end suggested a trap, but of what kind? Who was the Maker for that matter? The way people here talking about made him sound like some apparent god-figure. My initial thought was he was some manifestation of the Light but that made little sense. I hadn’t seen a single light-wielder since I came here.

I chomped down the rest of the stew. The tavern began to clear out as its denizens moved to their daily routines. I was going to have to head out soon as well. The job I signed up for wasn’t too far away. How hard could it be to sit in front of a bakery for hours anyway?

I flipped backwards through my journal, skimming past the entries in Thedas to the mundane patrols of the Badlands and beyond. To the journey south, to Alterac City, to patrols in the mountains, and my first day being assigned under Captain Falmore’s team. I smiled at the memories. Life was simple back then. Keep your shields up, follow orders, and be useful to the others.

There were more pages beyond that which I skimmed, then stopped right before reaching the front flap. There were no written words here, only pictograms and symbols. Visual descriptions of hand motions to activate seals used to harness the light’s energy. I forgot I had drawn them down once I commissioned from the Grand Cathedral.

Every paladin learned them during the course of their training. Most of us also forgot most of them when they joined the greater Alliance military. Mainly due to what everyone up and down the hierarchy considered to be a light-wielders greatest asset: cleanse plague and poisons. Regenerate wounds and fix bones that would have taken weeks or months to recover. In short, the ability to heal.

Every single seal on the page I was looking at was dedicated to that purpose. My eyes traced a column of images consisting of multiple curves intertwining with each other. Each image grew in complexity down the page. Each curve representing flourishes and movements of a hand to cast the ability. I remembered their names and purpose well. I practiced them the most during my time as an initiate and during my first year of service. **Shock, Flash, Light, Lay, Redemption, Cleanse**.

All of them were unavailable to me. I turned a page.

The seals here were more rigid and pronounced. Most of these weren’t meant to be traced by the hand, save for the very last one. They were weapon seals, imprinted onto weapons to allow a paladin to channel light through them. I recognized **Righteousness** as the seal from my old hammer. The last one, **Judgment** , magnified the seal’s effects on the weapon.

None of these were available to me either. Captain Falmore’s sword didn’t have a weapon seal, and there were no inscriptors who could work one into the weapon. 

I flipped to the last page. **Sacred Shield,** or barrier as I just called it, was written on the top left. **Reckoning** was drawn in another corner of the page. I remembered the names of a few but their purpose was foggy. **Consecration, Retribution, Sacrifice, Devotion…**

My memory jogged as I recognized two of the seals. **Exorcism** and **Wrath**.

These seals were designed specifically to deal with demons, undead, and everything else considered unholy. Exactly how, I didn’t remember. They were discarded since the vast majority of the orc warlocks and their demonic spawn were captured and slain at the end of the Second War.

I recalled the demonic creature the mage turned into in the forest. These seals were worth brushing up on. I’d probably at least practice the gestures later.

I clapped the journal closed and got up. Time to get ready for the day job.

***

According to the parchment, the bakery was just right around the next corner.

As I walked through the street, I caught a noticeable air of wealth from my surroundings. The buildings were larger, and more spacious. Most were made out of stone bricks instead of wood. Their roofs were lined with clay tiles and nearly all of them had glass windows. Some even had miniature gated gardens, with men and women resembling servants watering the grass and plants.

The human traffic along the streets was nowhere near as dense as everywhere else. There were no caravans or gangs of laborers in dirty shirts hauling goods atop their backs. Instead, the people here were well-groomed and their clothes more vibrant and colorful. Several had retainers dressed in more plain clothes following behind. They strode by enjoying the day in leisure. A few gave me glances of annoyance or contempt, as if my presence stained their surroundings.

I very well didn’t care too much. This was probably Denerim’s equivalent of Stormwind’s garden district. Home of the wealthy and powerful. Well, the clerk did mention that the bakery serviced the nobility. I suppose it only made sense for it to be close to where the customers were.

My destination was closer than I thought because the moment I turned the corner, I was greeted by a delightful scent. I had a full stomach, but my mouth began to water. Across the street, I saw a quaint two-story building with a loaf of bread carved atop the main door. Smoke puffed out from a chimney in the back. There was a large glass panel through which I could see inside. It looked empty.

I went up to the entrance and pushed past the door. A bell chimed.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Ah, one moment!” said an accented feminine voice.

“Madame Lebois?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes. Just one moment!”

Well, this was the right place. I was in a room full of wooden stands were arrayed around the floor where I guessed baked goods would be placed.

A door leading to another room popped open, and a woman walked through with mittens.

She was of middling years where the signs of age were equally balanced by youth. Under a blue hairnet, her yellow hair was braided back into a frizzy bun. She wore a gray apron over a plump figure that was dusted with white flour.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m with the Blackstone Irregulars. I believe you requested our assistance?”

“Oh, yes! I was told yesterday you would be arriving. I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early!”

“Well, we are professionals,” I chuckled. “So how may I be of help?”

“Hm…” She shifted her glance between me and the other room in thought.

“You can begin by setting up all the baskets.”

“Pardon?”

“All the baskets need to be set-up out here. They are in the back. Quick! Everything must be set up before the good people arrive!”

“Ah-Alright then.”

She moved out of the way and past me, smelling strongly of flour. I moved past her to the backroom, and the smell of flour reached overwhelming levels. There was so much of it in the air I could see it floating through the sunlight. I could feel the powder seep through the gaps between my skin and my armor and settle under my clothes.

The air was noticeably hotter here, thanks to the stone furnace that smoked in the far back. There was a set of stairs leading to the second floor to the left but I was struck most by what was on the right. Rows and rows of tables in the room. One held a tray with molded dough and was filled with pots, pans, jars, and utensils of varying shapes and sizes. The rest of them were filled with all sorts of baked delights. My eyes confirmed what my nose had been hinting at. Real bread. None of that conjured stuff by the mages I was forced to eat for the last two years. My eyes drifted to a set of pastries that gleamed in the firelight. Was that real butter glaze? 

I didn’t see any other helpers. Did she really prepare all this by herself?

“Don’t just stand there!” she said through the room.

“Oh, sorry!”

There were several stacks of baskets opposite the tables full of bread. I was tempted to sneak away one of those pastries. I resisted, but the urge taunted me.

I lifted a stack, careful to keep them from tipping over, and stepped back to the main room.

“Where do you want them?” I asked, looking over the stack. Madame Lebois was dusting off one of the counters with a mitten.

“Just set them on top of the stands. After that…”

Madame Lebois gave orders and I followed. After all the baskets were set, she took a glance at the layout and shook her head in dissatisfaction. Then we moved to filling each of the baskets with bread, which involved moving the baskets to the backroom then back to the main room. That little inefficiency irked me, but I went along. After that, I was sweeping the floors, then moving sacks of flour, then cleaning the furnace, then reorganizing all the jars of ingredients in her cabinet, and then moving more sacks of flour.

It wasn’t like I was doing all the labor. She did her part as well, preparing more batches of bread from the backroom and other tasks to get the shop ready. My armor and sword were sitting in the backroom. All they did was get in the way and it didn’t look like I was going to need it for whatever she had me doing. This wasn’t what I was expecting, but it was far better than bloodwork.

Something tugged against the bottom of my pants as I carried a flour sack through the backroom. I looked down to see a little boy. His blue eyes stared up in curiosity.

“You’re big!” he said.

It was so innocent that I couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I am.”

“My Papa was big too!” He pointed a finger at the brigandine and sword standing against the wall. “Is that yours?”

“Uh… yea it is, kid. Who are you and how did yo-”

“Louis!” Madame Lebois said, appearing at the doorway. “Don’t bother our guest! Come here!”

The little boy scampered over to his mother. Oh, that explained his sudden appearance. She kneeled down and hugged him up.

“Sorry about that,” Madame Lebois said, holding on to the child. “He is at the point where he pries too much for his own good.”

“Eh, I can understand,” I laughed. “I was his age once too.”

Madame Lebois gave her son a kiss then set him down. “Stay out of trouble,” she said. “And no more questions while we work. Okay?”

“Okay Maman,” the boy nodded, then ran past me and up the stairs. I resisted the urge to smile at the moment, settling for a half-smirk.

Madame Lebois’ face was noticeably brighter as she watched her son run off.

“Your son is a good lad,” I said.

She sighed. “He is a lovely boy but gives his mother far more trouble than needed at times.”

“I can understand that too,” I said, feeling a bit guilty.

Work went on, and soon the first wave of clients arrived. Madame Lebois worked the front of the room, greeting her customers and handling her business. The bakery became filled with voices as she laughed and conversed with her customers. Most of Madame Lebois’ patrons were of the wealthy sort.

I worked the backroom, refilling bread baskets as needed, cleaning, and any other mundane tasks. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the little boy sneak glances from the top of the stairs.

I had to give it to him for not asking anything as his mother asked. When I was his age, every time we had a new visitor, I would pepper them with questions, testing Aunt Tiana’s patience until she shooed me outside. If Louis was just a troublemaker then I was downright a devil. I continued working with a smile, reliving old memories.

It was a nice change of pace. Just an honest day’s work, like how I imagined things would be once I got back to Northshire. I could also see why this job hadn’t been taken. I couldn’t imagine one of Taoran’s thugs being happy to labor like this.

Time passed and the bakery gradually emptied out both in bread and patrons. Madame Lebois stood in the backroom counting coins at a table.

“Everything is clean here. Do you want me to collect the baskets?” I asked.

“Oh, yes please!” Madame Lebois replied. “Please let anyone coming in know that we are closed for the day.”

“Certainly.”

I moved to collect the baskets from the main room when the bell rang as the front door opened.

A young girl with shoulder-length brown hair walked in. The gold embroidery on her red dress and the plain-clothed retainer walked behind was enough to tell me that she was another noble patron.

“Sorry, we are closed,” I said.

She didn’t even bother to glance in my direction, and ignored me, stepping towards the backroom.

“Look, we’re clo-”

I stopped myself as her retainer’s eyes pleaded to me not to sour the mood of her ward.

“Madame Lebois!” the girl said, upon seeing her.

“Habren!” Madame Lebois replied. “It has been too long!”

The woman and the girl hugged each other. I looked at the embracing women then back and the retainer and nodded in acknowledgement, moving back to gathering up the baskets. The retainer closed her eyes in thanks.

“So, my dear girl,” Madame Lebois said. “How have you been?”

“Never been better. Do you like my new dress?”

“Is that Orlesian silk?”

“It is!” she said, spinning and letting the dress flutter with her movement. “Father bought it for me from the market. You can’t quite find anything like it in the South Reach.”

“Marvelous. He is such a wonderful man. You are quite lucky. Tell me though, what brings you all the way up here?”

“Oh. Father has a meeting with the Kendells.”

“The Arl of Denerim?”

“Yes. It is actually the reason why I came. I… have a suspicion and I could find nobody else to confide with than you.”

“Oh, dear Andraste. What is it, girl?”

She lowered her voice, but it was loud enough for me to l hear. “I suspect he intends to strike a match between our families.”

“What! But the Arl of Denerim has but one son. No… your father cannot be serious!”

“I know! Is it not terrible?” the girl sobbed, while her retainer rolled her eyes.

“Vaughn Kendells!? Perhaps one of the unsightliest and inscrutable men to have graced the nobility?”

“Oh, Madame Lebois. How could my father entertain such a horrid match?”

“I could understand why. The Arl of Denerim has never been popular among the Bannorn, but he is powerful,” Madame Lebois shook her head. “Unfortunately, his son’s character hasn’t improved one bit. Apparently, he has taken up a propensity for gambling and… other unseemly habits.”

“I know! I pleaded my father but to no avail. Now we have lunch at their estate tomorrow. I cannot… no, I refuse to attend! If I catch one sight of that churl and boor of a man, I shall make a scene! Madame Lebois, you must help me!”

“Dear Andraste…Although, there may be yet a way for you to escape this conundrum.”

“How so?”

“I shall speak to Revered Mother Perpetua. The Chantry is holding a vigil for this month, and its doors shall be open to all. She will have a word with your father, that you have come upon a devout desire to serve the Maker, and wish to join the Maker’s chosen in prayer. With this, you shall be free of your obligation.”

“Oh, Madame Lebois that does sound excellent! I knew I can count on you.”

“Oh no, don’t worry my dear girl, it is all my entire pleasure. I am always looking to help the plight of young maidens.”

“May the Maker and Andraste bless your soul. If only there were more such as yourself in this cruel world. Mayhap I can last free until the next royal ball. I hear the younger of the Cousland brothers is growing up to be quite the dashing man.”

“Now, now dear. One bit at a time. Have patience.”

“Of course! Of course! Thank you, Madame. I am afraid that I must leave, however before I depart the city, we must have tea!”

“Certainly, my dear! I will not forget.”

They hugged once more, then parted. The girl waved while skipping out the door, her retainer following close behind her.

Madame Lebois waved back, and once the two vanished from sight, sighed.

“Is it like this for you every day?” I asked.

“Not always. Some days are less busy than others. Though I truly appreciate your help.”

“Just doing my job, Madame.”

We went back to our tasks. Me cleaning, her counting coins. As I moved from collecting the baskets to brushing the floor, I thought back to their conversation. Something that drew my interest.

“I must apologize for my ignorance,” I said. “I grew up far from the city. However, what exactly is the vigil?”

“Oh, no worries,” she said. “It is a local custom where the Chantry opens its doors for the masses to hear Andraste’s story. I was not aware of until I moved here from Val Royeaux. Although, Orlesians hold the Maker and Andraste in high regard, it appears Ferelden takes it a step further. It makes sense, this was her birthplace after all.”

“Ah. Open to all you say?”

“Yes.”

I really did not want to go anywhere near the Chantry, but the opportunity to learn more about the Maker was too good to pass up. For all I knew it would shed more light on Flemeth’s puzzle.

We finished our work soon after and I could see the sun begin to set over the buildings. I donned my armor and buckled my sword.

The little boy trotted down from the stairs, and past me behind his mother’s skirt. Watching him was like watching my own childhood played back to me.

Madame Lebois sighed at her son then looked back up to me. “I daresay you’ve made my life much easier. So, here is a little extra gift.”

She offered me a basket full of bread.

“Thank you!”

“No I should be thanking you. It is so much easier to manage things with an extra hand. If you ever feel inclined to, I would certainly hire you again.”

“Certainly.”

I kneeled down to the boy. “Keep listening to your mother. Don’t do anything to make her sad, alright?”

The little boy nodded, and I pushed past the door.

***

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have finished processing the data from the artifact.”**

“Oh, you have?” I mouthed.

I stuffed a muffin from the basket into my mouth. By the Light, it was heavenly. I had almost forgotten the taste of real bread. Whatever Alamere and the other mages conjured as field rations was a terrible substitute.

**“The artifact possesses navigational data for an underground system.”**

“So, a map?”

**“Correct.”**

That could be useful.

“Any idea where, though?”

**“Unknown as of this time. I can posit that the area is located beneath the surface of this planetary body.”**

Or not.

“Well, maybe it’ll be useful.”

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected lifeforms exhibiting hostile intent in your vicinity.”**

I dropped the piece of bread on the street, the free hand reaching towards the hilt of my sword. I pressed myself toward the closest wall to protect my back. I had armor on, but that didn’t make me invulnerable. There were one too many incidents of soldiers getting garroted from the back by enemy rogues. My eyes scanned the empty street, then toward any dark corners or avenues of approach. Something shifted in dark shadow of alleyway. I began to pull the sword out its sheath, ready to strike down the threat.

Then a high-pitched bark squeaked out. I stopped, as a few figures stepped out from the shadows. Several faces peered out from the shadow. 

Children of various shapes and sizes. Their faces and hair were so ragged I couldn’t tell their gender apart. Some had the pointed ears of elves while others were rounded like humans. One of them was holding onto a small pug-nosed up, who continued yelping in my direction. All of them had the same starved look.

The Lorekeeper probably registered them as a threat. I still didn’t understand the mechanism of his ability that but it made a twisted kind of sense. Hunger was what drove predators to prey after all.

I already knew what I was going to do and sighed, pushing my sword back into its sheath. I took a step forward, causing the street urchins to take several steps back into the alleyway. They still peered from the dark, their eyes trained on the bread basket instead of me.

This time I lowered the basket to the ground then went on my way.

When I was far enough, I heard the scamper of dozens of steps along the streets. I looked back to see the urchins swarm the bread basket. My stomach growled in disapproval but I ignored it. There was stew at the inn.

“That was very kind of you,” a voice perched right as I was about to turn the corner, and came face to face with a woman.

Her face had all the hallmarks of age. Gray hair, wrinkles, crow’s feet around the eyes. However, she maintained a sense of grace. She stood upright, and her shoulders held high. Her robes were the red and white of the Chantry women that I had observed in the past. That was enough to set me on alarm.

“Well, they needed it more than I did.”

The smile on her face was genuine enough, and there weren’t any templars nearby. Experience however taught me that some of the most vicious personalities could hide behind the most innocent of faces. Best to err on the side of caution.

“A kind thought,” she said. “Rare to see those in these trying times.”

“Just the way I was raised. Uh-who are you?”

“A humble servant of the Maker. But you may call me Mother Dorothea.”

We looked at the children. They weren’t fighting over each other for the meal, in fact it seemed like they were sharing.

“I think the world would be a better place with more people like yourself,” said Mother Dorothea.

“Ah… I’m not too certain about that.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, kind stranger. Your actions alone prove it. After all, one good turn deserves another.”

“One wonders…” I said, edging further away from Mother Dorothea. “Sorry, but I best get going.”

“May the Maker watch over you. All good things will be repaid in time.”


	17. The Chantry

**_“I mentioned before the similarities between the Church and the Chantry. Both had their beginnings among the nomadic precursors of each world’s human civilizations. Both had female figures who received extraordinary revelations (Mereldar and Andraste). There are many more similarities, suspiciously so, yet there are differences. While Mereldar’s revelations were seen as but most prominent among many revelations of the Light’s presence, Andraste, was seen as the sole bearer of truth. The Church also never had a singular threat. Humans on Azeroth had to contend with all manner of foes ranging from the disparate troll empires, dwarves, spirits, demons, and all manner of creatures and hostile wildlife. On Thedas, in the absence of external foes, humanity’s greatest threat appears to have been itself. This is evident from the very beginning of the Chantry which I shall expand upon now…_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I have detected a lapse in your attention.”**

“Huh. What…”

I jolted, accidentally shifting against the people sitting to my left and right. They shot me annoyed glances.

We were seated, crammed really, like merchants at an auction house during rush hour. There was an unsavory odor from the pressed bodies, only further confirming my suspicion that the concept of personal hygiene had never fully taken off in this world. I could feel the dust settling on my skin causing the whiskers above my lip and my increasingly unkempt hair to prickle with irritation. I was half-tempted to just hack it all off with a blade, scrapes and cuts be damned.

I wondered if there was a barber of some sort in the city. I cared less about looking stylish, most of the people in the crowd had hair far too long for my tastes. I just needed to trim it down to size so that it stopped itching.

On that note, the itching from my clothes was back in full force. I promised myself that today was going to be the last day I wore the damn tunic before I shredded it up into spare bandages. On top of that, I could barely move, and was starting to lose feeling in my legs. Although I left my sword and armor back at the tavern, they were in the forefront in my mind. It was the first time since I escaped the forest that I didn’t have the weapon. I missed the peace of mind of having it nearby.

I didn’t bring it because it was apparent that the Chantry’s denizens would be less than pleased to have it present in the building. The only thing to comfort me was the soft voice of Chantry Mother Perpetua who stood on a platform at the other end of the building. She began to recite once more from a large book to the crowd.

Blessed are they who stand before. The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the Makers children. For they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are the peacekeepers. Champions of the Just.

I recalled from her earlier statement that the verses were taken from a chapter that was titled the Canticle of Benedictions. In one sense I understood the need for the repetitive phrasing. The language was similar to the revelations of Mereldar from the tome of divinity. Words meant to inspire thoughtfulness.

Unfortunately, the mind-numbing ramble also inflicted headaches. Unlike then, I had no opportunity to skim through the section. Instead, I had to listen as the speaker took her time, as if there was something praiseworthy that could be transmitted by emphasizing every syllable, every period, and every pause.

Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.

Blessed is the one who trusts in the Maker, whose confidence is in him.

Blessed are those who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart.

And here I thought a silverleaf draught was a powerful way to induce sleep. Mother Perpetua’s voice proved otherwise. It was as equally soothing to my ears as a lullaby as a mother’s voice to a child. With the same effect on the listener, based on the number of dozing heads throughout the crowd. There were even a few people to my left who had their eyes closed, and it didn’t seem like they were praying.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall find their work rewarded

Blessed is the one who is persecuted for the sake of good, for they shall rest in the Golden City.

Blessed are those who weep, who mourn. For they shall joy in the Maker.

I was going to pass out again if I continued listening. There wasn’t any more useful information to be gleamed from what she was saying. Instead, I looked around the building.

The Chantry was an open space with two floors. Besides the crowd, pairs of young men and women walked among the floors robed in red and white. They carried themselves with an air of restraint and purpose, reminding me of my own time as a young initiate of the Church. I believe they were referred to as Brothers and Sisters. The elders were Mothers, which I took to be the equivalent of priests and bishops. However, there were no Fathers, or male equivalent, which was interesting to note. There were a few templars as well, mainly standing guard around a select few doors, but I was not concerned. My presence hadn’t seemed to disturb them, at least not yet.

There was something eerie about the place, something that put me at unease.

I continued looking, trying to pinpoint the source. When I was outside, the building’s pyramid-shaped roof distinguished it from all the others in the city. Inside, ornaments and figures of religious importance permeated the open spaces. Standing along corners, hanging from walls, looking down from the sloped ceiling. Light streamed through stained-glass windows, basking everyone in the glory of the icons. Candles were lit from numerous braziers, eliminating darkness in the open room.

Then it came to me that it wasn’t the furniture but the color. Nearly everything was red, white, or gold. The colors of the Scarlet Order.

It dredged up something ugly from the depths of my mind, things I chose not to dwell on, so I let it fade, instead turning toward the most impressive icon of all. It was a statue of a woman, that was behind Mother Perpetua. It rose from the ground, to the second floor, and all the way up to the ceiling. She was garbed in a warrior’s skirt. Her back was arched straight in confidence and composure. The head was adorned with a golden halo in a symbol of superiority. Her gaze was dipped down to the denizens below, like a shepherd watching over their flock, or a mother watching over her children, or a queen watching over her subjects.

It was similar in sensation to walking among the stone figurines of the heroes of the Second War. They stood in front of the Stormwind gates, a reminder of the sacrifice they made to defeat the Horde. Turalyon, Khadgar, Alleria, Danath, Kurdran.

None of these heroes however, nor anyone in my own history, had demanded the level of worship of this imposing woman.

I took a closer look at her statue. One of her hands held a sword with its blade tipped down, while the other was raised with the palms flat against an invisible wall. A gesture I understood from the locals to symbolize peace. A contrasting duality that well summarized the life of the prophet Andraste.

I was aware of her tale, through the earlier sermons, which proved to be less dull than the current one. Her story was enshrined by eight glass murals behind the statue on the second floor.

The first mural depicted three men, mages of the Tevinter Imperium, drawing blood from a body. They looked up to the heavens to a city among the clouds. The Golden City of the Maker. By the Chantry’s story, these mages intended to use power drawn from their victims to reach to enter the city and usurp the Maker’s throne. The same magic used by the mage in the forest, who used her own lifeforce to bring forth a demon and kill the templars out of vengeance. Blood magic.

The result of their actions was depicted by the same mural at the bottom of the mural. Blood twisted the city, turning it from gold to black. As Mother Perpetua had recited.

And so is the golden city blackened.

With each step you take in my hall.

Marvel at my perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought sin to Heaven.

And doom upon all the world.”

This corruption, or the taint as the Chantry called it, persisted and was brought back to the world by the cast-out magisters. The first of a race of creatures known as the Darkspawn. 

It wasn’t too far-fetched. I knew of enough similar stories from the course of our own history. Tales of priests that were twisted into shadow aberrations from seeking powers beyond their light-given gifts. Mages slaughtered by accidentally summoning fel demons of the Twisting Nether. Kul’Tiran sailors leading their ships to doom while enraptured by beautiful voices from the depths of the sea. It wasn’t unique to mankind either. The Dark Iron Dwarves sought elemental power to defeat their brethren then wound up enslaving themselves to the Firelord Ragnoros. High Elven mythology supposedly depicted of a global sundering that took a millennium prior due to a cursed deal with some otherworldly being. There were countless more examples of the downfall of mortals brought by greed and vanity.

The next mural was of Andraste herself, sheathed in the Maker’s light, bringing redemption to the world. Thereafter she became the conduit for the redemption of mankind in the eyes of the Maker, and thus she set the foundations of what would become the Chantry. I found it to be fascinatingly like the story of Mereldar, one of the first priestesses of the Church, who saw visions of the Light among the Arathi Highlands.

The following murals depicted the struggle of Andraste’s fledgling movement against the Tevinter Imperium. The unification of scattered human tribes. The revolts of the slaves. The inclusion of the elven hero Shartan and his kind. I still found the state of the elves here to be befuddling. Something happened which led them to their current state though I knew not what.

The story continued onward, detailing the rising tide against the Tevinter Imperium. In the end it was again the hubris of man that would lead Andraste’s earthly husband to betray her to the Magisters. From there, she suffered, was executed by the leader of the Tevinter Imperium, Archon Hesserian, and ascended to the Maker’s side.

A bit anti-climactic for my tastes, but enough given I knew next to nothing of this world. All this would lead to the Chantry’s growth into the dominant force of the world, uniting the disparate kingdoms of man into one to include the remnants of the Imperium. It did much to explain why things the way they were, and why mages in particular were treated the way they were, especially after centuries of rearing and treating others like cattle for slaughter.

The rest of it, of entities such as this Golden City or even the Maker, I wasn’t too sure about. At first thought, the Maker seemed like a visage of the Light, although the Chantry’s account of him seemed to discount that. His portrayal was more akin to the wild gods of the troll empires than an entity such as the Light.

The Light knew not vengeance nor sought to be worshipped. It was a force of nature that represented everything good in its primal form. It was a tangible and concrete. Even the Lorekeeper, an ancient automaton that had existed for who-knows-how-long acknowledged its existence. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the core of Light flux within. It was an entity that one could feel, quite unlike this elusive of the Maker whose presence was questionable.

The sermon raised far more questions than it did in providing answers, however I had the information that I needed. It was obvious now in hindsight that the Maker’s wife in Flemeth’s puzzle was Andraste.

Now all I had to was find this “home” that she was supposedly in. From Flemeth’s own words it was somewhere in the city. However, Denerim was a large place.

“This concludes the sermon of today’s vigil,” said Mother Perpetua. “Blessed be the Maker.”

“Blessed be the Maker,” the crowd recited.

Everyone began to shuffle out of the stools. I stood up as well, stretching out my limbs.

The majority of the congregation flocked out through the main floor to the doors. I however took a separate path. On the second floor, I had caught a glimpse of several shelves stocked with books. If there was any knowledge of finding Andraste’s home it was likely to be there. I didn’t have the time nor the ability to explore every home in the city without more information.

I traced a path to the library to a single staircase that led to the first floor. There was a Chantry sister sitting at desk by the entrance.

Like the others, she was young and had her hair done up in a neat bun. She wore no jewelry, and her clothes were framed to hide her feminine features. For good reason too, although I had a feeling it would do little to stifle anything. One of the Chantry brothers walked by, and I saw her eyes follow in his wake.

It was no different than what I saw in the Church and the Alliance military. Put young women and men together and things happened.

Then she noticed my approach then stood up to bow. Her expression betrayed tiredness. I guess this wasn’t the first time she had to greet someone, and this most like wasn’t the last.

“Blessings to you stranger,” she said. “I am Sister Rivera. How may I be of service today?”

“Hello,” I replied. “Is there a library up there?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What sort of books do you have on the shelves?”

“Historical books. Old journals. Records of Address. Such and such.” There was a subtle shift in her expression that asked “And why would you want to know?”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“I am sorry, but only Chantry servicemembers and distinguished guests permitted on the second floor.”

Damn. 

“So… what do I need to be a distinguished guest?”

“One will need to provide proof of service.”

“And how would I acquire that?”

“One needs to prove themselves through a feat, though a monetary contribution would be sufficient.”

“And how… much would be a sufficient sum?”

“Although, the Chantry is appreciative of any tithe, greater recognition is bestowed upon greater quantities. A donation of at least 500 silver or 5 gold would be sufficient.”

I gaped. We stood there, the only sound being footsteps and people as they shuffled out the Chantry.

“I… apologize, but it is the way things are.”

“No, its… I understand.”

The sum was outrageous. However, if it was common-practice it certainly explained how the Chantry was able to afford all the decorations it had.

Then I was reminded of something. Something I did a few times at the Church, namely to work my way through the priests to sneak out the Cathedral.

“I just found the Mother’s sermon to be inspiring,” I continued. “I was hoping to learn more about Andraste herself you see. Her description of the despair she felt for her people touched me deeply. What did she say… Blade to shackle-bearer, valiant of spirit. Blazing like star-shine, to battle they charged.

The moment I began to recite the verse, the sister’s eyes widened in enthusiasm. So much so that she interrupted, “None to return to the land of their mothers. By cruel magic taken, ice, lightning, and flame. Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. That is one of my favorite passages.”

It looked like the Chantry denizens cared about doctrine and theology as much as the Church.

No worries Sister Rivera. I did not take offense. Andraste truly is an amazing woman. Oh, how I wept when she begged the Maker to grant us a second chance. We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling. Only a Light in this darken’d time breaks.”

The Sister completed the verse. “Call to your children, teach us your greatness. What has been forgotten has not yet been lost. I agree. Andraste was a woman ahead of her time. You are rather well-versed in the Canticles.”

I flashed the best boyish smile I could muster. “Well, I was always told I had a knack for memory.”

“I am glad to hear so. It is rare to find commoners who appreciate the scope of her work.”

“True, alas I wish to learn and fix more of her words, but for now it seems beyond my reach.” I looked up the stairs.

“I am touched by your desire.” She looked up the stairs then back at me. “I…I really shouldn’t let you past but I think….”

There were the hard clanks of metal against stone as a figure in gleaming armor stepped next to us.

“What is going on here?” he said, crossing his arms and glaring at me. It was a templar, a Knight-Captain judging by the sash around his waist. 

“Ser Rodrick!” Sister Rivera said, then bowed.

“Is this vagrant giving you any trouble Sister Rivera?” he said.

“No!” she replied. “We were just enjoying some time that’s all.”

The man just stood there, looking daggers at my eyes. I just stood there, trying to look as innocent as possible. Despite the scowl, there was something familiar about his face that tugged at my memory.

“I should warn you that only distinguished guests are allowed to the second floor,” he said. Although he was looking at me, it seemed like the warning was directed at the two of us.

“If you have no other business,” he continued. “You best be on your way.”

The man stormed off.

“Um… sorry about that,” Sister Rivera said. “He is one of the Knight-Captains of the garrison here. He… hasn’t been in the best mood.”

“No, it’s alright. I haven’t had the best interactions with the templars as of late.”

“They aren’t all bad people, though a little gruff at times. Please forgive his behavior. He lost his brother on an expedition not too long ago.”

That jolted my memory.

“Not to intrude but, how long ago was this expedition?”

“About a few weeks ago. I don’t know much but his brother had just been knighted. They went into the Brecillian Forest to retrieve an apostate. They never returned. When the search party found them, it was…” She shuddered. “Well, it was a gruesome sight.”

“I can understand that. It sounds horrible.”

“Is it not? Apparently, there were signs someone looted all the bodies afterwards. Who could do such a thing! Stealing from the dead, let alone templars. The nerve of people nowadays.”

“Oh, I agree.”

“Apparently, it must have been another apostate because all the lyrium was stolen. Ser Rodrick has made a holy vow to hunt him down.”

“Well, I hope he finds this apostate.”

“As do I. We are lucky to have strong defenders to watch over us like him. Anyhow, I’m sorry but you should probably get going.”

“I understand. Thank you for your time Sister Rivera.”

“And you too. May the Maker’s peace be with you.”

I left the Chantry in a hurry. There wasn’t a way for them to trace that mess all the way back to me in Denerim. At least I was sure of it. Still, I wasn’t about to tempt fate. The world as I knew worked in mysterious ways, Maker or no Maker.

I turned my attention to calculating how much effort I was going to have to put in for 500 silver coins. If I played it safe, it would roughly take five months of working mundane jobs like the bakery. Even some of the well-payed jobs only cashed out at 100 silvers, and those were either dangerous or took just as much time. Time that I did not have.

The Chantry was only open to the public for the vigil, which lasted a month. How in the twisting nether was I supposed to come up with that much coin in a month?

Then a few familiar voices came across through the noise of the marketplace.

“Miss Bryland, please. I implore you to abandon this outrageous scheme.”

“Not another word. And be careful with that package. It’s worth more than you’ll ever make in ten years.”

“Please! Your father is bound to find out!”

“Not. Another. Word. And you best pray father does not find out, or else I’ll have you sent to work the kitchens for the rest of your life.”

Habren Bryland, wearing a bright purple outfit, walked in front of me with her arms crossed and head pointed high. I realized that I had not seen her at all in the Chantry, and she most certainly hadn’t joined in the vigil.

Her retainer walked behind, trying to balance several rolls of cloth. Her expression was miserable, far more than when she was at the bakery.

Well, it seemed like I wasn’t the only one not having a good day. I continued walking back to the tavern, trying to think up a solution.


	18. Bargain

**_“After some time here, I came to a realization that one of the things I sorely took for granted was money. As a paladin I never really had to dabble with it, and it was the same before, when I was a child or an adolescent. Unfortunately for me, that meant I never really learned how to budget properly…”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



The Blackstone Liaison didn’t say anything. The old man was as still and stone-faced as a statue. Not even the whiskers on his beard moved when he contemplated my request.

“You’re being serious?” he finally answered.

“Yes.”

He burst out laughing. I expected as much, to be honest.

We were standing in front of the hiring board. All the other mercs had left for their jobs or joined the crowd watching the latest match at the fighting pit. There was a loud cheer that overwhelmed the normal bustle of the marketplace as the combatants clashed. His clerks were in the opposite direction, packing up scrolls with all the tasks that were taken up for the day.

“So… are there any jobs that pay that much?” I asked again.

The Blackstone liaison stopped laughing, but the smirk on his face told me he was still amused.

“Listen. If I knew of a job that did there are two things. One, whatever they were asking me to do probably wasn’t worth the trouble. And two, if it was, I’d take it up myself.”

“Well do you know of something that wasn’t worth the trouble?”

“Did you listen to what I just said? There is nothing. And what makes you think I would hand it over to some upstart like you in the first place?”

“Because I asked nicely?”

His clerks walked up next to him; their arms full of wrapped scrolls. The stern looks on their faces told me they were rather impatient to leave.

“You’ll have to try better than son. Look at board tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe I’ll miss something and you’ll get lucky.”

Before he turned to walk away, he glanced at the brigandine I was wearing.

“Where’d you get that heap of garbage?”

“Wade’s Emporium.” I tapped the tattered plates stitched over the leather vest. “I know it doesn’t look pretty but it does its job.”

“Since when does Wade hand off second-hand pieces like that?”

One of the clerks, the same one who recommended the place to me, sheepishly looked away.

“I suggest you go find something more suitable,” the old man continued. “You’re one of us now, not some punk on the street.”

They departed without another word, taking the hiring board with them and leaving me alone on the street. With them went the only plan I came up with to gain access to the Chantry library.

**“I believe your attempt was unsuccessful.”**

“Yes, I am well aware,” I muttered, not really appreciating the snark. Although I wasn’t sure the Lorekeeper meant it that way.

There was little hope of finding the house Flemeth referred to without access to the library. I asked a few passing Chantry sisters if such a place existed on the assumption and hope that this was common knowledge. I’d have assumed that the home of a major spiritual figure would be an object of veneration. Like Tyr’s fall or Light’s Hope Chapel. Surprisingly, it wasn’t.

According to the answers I got, there was a whole host of disagreements as to where Andraste actually lived in Denerim. Apparently, there was even a whole field dedicated to this study, something that caught the interest of scholarly debate for centuries. In an attempt to settle all the disputes, and to allay all the pilgrims who wanted to pay her homage, a monument was erected in Denerim as her symbolic home. Andraste’s rock as they called it.

All the supposed theories, as far as to her actual home, were chronicled in books that were locked up in the Chantry library. For which I needed 500 silvers.

500 silvers to gain access to a few bookshelves. There was no feasible way for me to get that much money through whatever was on the job board, especially before the Chantry closed when the vigil ended in a month. They either paid too little or took too much time.

I heard another sharp clash from the fighting pits. One of the combatants must have fallen because there was a loud roar and I saw the arbitrator rush into the field. The victor was announced and the winners among the spectators applauded while the losers stayed silent. 

Maybe I could win enough silvers through the fighting pits. I wasn’t sure how quickly before everyone started betting for me. Then I noticed a familiar sight of long ruffled hair among the crowd. It was Taoran Hawkwind, standing near the edge of the fighting pit.

I certainly wasn’t going to get 500 silvers through whatever was on the job board, but I was probably able to do so through… less reputable means. It would be morally dubious at best. I wasn’t looking forward to working with him after the last debacle but I didn’t see any other choice.

Whatever, I just wanted to get off this damn world and go home.

I shuffled my way through the crowd, sidestepping and ignoring the angry or happy exchanges of coin. Up ahead, Taoran was patting the shoulder of a man who had to be a noble or rich, judging by his clothes. He wore a fitted tunic with gold embroidery patterned over orange cloth. Something I would have seen on the people who frequented Madame Lebois bakery. And like the same people he had retainers, one of which who stepped in my way.

“Nobody is to disturb our lord,” one of the retainers said. Another moved next to him. Both of them were large imposing men, probably hired for that very reason.

“I only want to talk to the other fellow.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

I was impatient, but I wasn’t going to have a physical altercation with them just for a talk. I could wait.

“Very well,” I said then stepped to side. Regardless, I could overhear their conversation.

“If it isn’t another lucky day,” Taoran said. “Where does that leave us at. Four to none?”

“Oh, sod off.” The man knocked the hand out of the way.

“All in good humor Vaughn,” Taoran laughed.

“I’ll get you next time. Luck doesn’t last forever.”

Vaughn handed over a pouch that jingled with money to Taoran, who snaked it into a pocket. The “lord” then puffed up his chest.

“Now, I must get going now. I have an arrangement to be at.”

“Oh? I knew you didn’t wear that bright outfit to impress me. Must be a pretty important arrangement for you to dress up in something other than your usual livery.”

“Ha… Ha…. My family has dinner with the Arl of Southend,” Vaughn said then smirked. “And apparently, his daughter, will be there.”

“Arl Bryland of Southend. Well lucky you my good man.” Taoran said, patting his friends back again. “I hear his daughter is quite the blooming rose.”

“A quarter-Orlesian too, and you know what they say about Orlesians in the sheets.”

“Now is that any way a lord should speak?”

“Bah. I get enough pestering from the servants about mannerisms. If I cannot speak freely then what is the point of being a lord? Restraint is for peasants.”

“True… True… Though, are you quite okay with that. King Maric’s revolt wasn’t too long ago after all. Can’t say your peers would look too kindly upon Orlesians diluting noble blood.”

“Hmph, not that it matters much. The Arl of Redcliffe Eamon took an Orlesian for his wife. Sure, it raised a scuffle across the entire Bannorn but the old man seems pretty happy. Can’t say I’m too impressed, especially after seeing her in-person. And besides, Arl Bryland is a war hero. I doubt the Bannorn would give a fuss about his daughter being of marriageable worth.”

“Well I do hope everything works out.”

“Hopefully… anyhow, I must be off.”

Vaughn and his men stepped away. I had a feeling the dinner was going to go less well than expected, but that wasn’t any of my business. I stepped forward to Taoran.

He looked far worse for wear. He had bruises all around his neck, and cuts on his face that were not there earlier. There was a dark look on his eyes, the same look I saw from soldiers who had witnessed something horrifying.

“Oh,” he said, with a glum look. “It’s you.”

“Good Afternoon.”

“Didn’t expect to see you again after that last job. How did Knives do?”

“He is doing fine,” I lied, very well aware that the he was in fact a she. “Left him with a healer.”

“Really? Well, I haven’t seen him anywhere since then. He was a damn good bet in the fights. Any idea where he is now?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Shame,” he sighed. “Anyhow, I doubt you came up to me to talk about that incident. What do you want now?”

“I’m looking for a job.”

“The hiring board exists for that reason.”

“Not just any job. I need something that pays well and in a hurry. I was thinking you had something up your sleeve.”

“Up your sleeve?”

“I mean if you had something… not on the board. Off the books? Not on record? Preferably something that paid a large amount of coin.”

He didn’t laugh which was a good sign.

“And how much coin are we talking?”

“500 silvers.”

Taoran blanched.

“That is enough for a noble’s ransom. What in the Maker do you need that much coin for?”

“It is… a private matter.”

Taoran’s face went from disbelief to suspicion to curiosity.

“Hm…” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I have something. I… tried it earlier, but it didn’t pan out as intended. Can you meet me at the gate tomorrow morning?”

“I will.”

“That’s it? You know, you are a strange one. Most mercenaries would start asking more questions before taking up a request like this. You… seem to be far too chipper about everything.”

“Well let’s just say I don’t have too many moral qualms,” I lied.

“Good. Your work last time spoke for itself, and poor Balt hasn’t recovered. I suppose I don’t have much of a choice now. Even still come prepared. It won’t be another midnight stroll like the last job.”

Taoran left without another word. I was hoping there wouldn’t be any more compromises like last time, but it didn’t matter. My job wasn’t to save this world but to get back to my own.

Now that the main issue was resolved that left the rest of the day free. The first thing that popped in my mind was how I was starting to feel the ground through the soles of my boots. I should probably replace them, as well as getting supplies for my next venture.

It was odd, but I felt sorry to replace them. I never thought I’d get attached to something as trivial as boots, but they were among the few mementos I carried over from home.

The marketplace was less busy than usual. It wasn’t quite the dense whirlpool of activity as in the past, but there were enough people wandering about for shopkeepers and merchants to keep their shops open. I had about 8 silvers left after collecting coin from my work with Madame Lebois and my last job with Taoran. That should be enough for a decent pair of boots.

I walked around, keeping my eyes out for the supplies that I needed. Then I noticed a textile merchant along the corner peddling his wares.

It wasn’t the same place I bought that itchy tunic from, otherwise I would have continued walking. His stand had a wooden panel where sets of clothes were ordered from side to side. Shirts, pants, tunics, even some undergarments, all of varying shapes and sizes. Then I noticed several large leather boots, hanging from a long thread by the side of the shop.

The man behind the stand noticed my gaze and smiled.

“Greetings!” he said waving me over then pointed to his wares. “Something catch your fancy?”

I walked up to the stand, and pointed to the boots hanging from the wire.

“Mind if I try a set on?” I asked.

“Certainly!” he said. “Be mindful however. The boots are threaded with silverweave silk from Rivain and made out of cured Antivan elk-hide. Precious wares, only suitable for the finest of nobles and merchants.”

“Uh… right.” I didn’t have a clue what he was saying but they did look rather well-made.

I slipped off my worn footwear and tried a pair. They were comfortable, although a size too large. The merchant eyed me as I tried on more pairs, trying to get the right fit.

“Perhaps you need something under that armor of yours? Or a new set of pants to go with the boots?”

“No thank you,” I said then found a set that matched. I took a few steps. I hobbled a few times, but otherwise they were adequate.

“How much for these? I only have eight silvers…”

“Oh, that will be fine. These boots, they typically run for 20 silvers, but I have a bargain for you. Seven silvers, not a coin more and not a coin less.”

Well that pretty much dried up my budget for the day. On the other hand, having a solid pair of boots was the most important item on my current list of priorities.

“Very we-“

“Eratus?” a voice interrupted.

I turned around to the voice that piped up behind me, and came sight-to-sight with an elven woman in red hair. It was the same one from earlier, who helped me find my way to the marketplace, and like that time she was dressed in the same beige dress and holding the same basket.

“Oh, pleased to meet you again,” I said.

“I thought I recognized you,” she said, smiling.

That didn’t bode well. I was hoping to be as plain-looking and unrecognizable as possible.

“Uh.. right. You’re… Shianni correct?”

“You remembered my name!” Her smile grew brighter. She looked down to my new footwear then then peeked over to the stand. “I see you are looking to add a bit to your wardrobe.”

“Just a pair of boots.”

“I see,” she said then bent down for a closer look. Her eyes narrowed in concern. “You sure about that? Those don’t look too well-done.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

The merchant interrupted. “This isn’t any of your business knife-ear.”

Shianni scowled back at the man. “It is when you are trying to sell shoddy goods.”

She got back up then brought up her free hand. “Mind if I take a closer look?” she said. “I can prove it.”

“Uh… sure,” I said taking off the boots, and handing one to her.

“Let’s see here…” She brought the boot up in front of us, pointing at the various deficiencies. “Well first the threading is rubbish and will probably fall apart within a few weeks. Also, this leather isn’t real. You can tell from the texture, someone probably tried to glue a bunch of old pieces together. Guarantee it will fall apart the moment it gets wet.”

I looked at the merchant who just angrily glared at Shianni.

She looked to me. “How much were you about to buy this for?”

“Seven silvers.”

“Seven silvers!” She looked back at the merchant. “These are hardly worth a copper. Are you trying to swindle people too?”

“Shut up,” he said then looked back at me. “Listen my good friend. You don’t need to listen to her, all you need to do is-“

“No thank you,” I said, handing him back the boots.

We walked away from the stall, leaving the merchant to grumble to himself.

“Thanks,” I said.

“It was no problem at all. Honestly, there are far too many predators in the market looking for easy victims. I couldn’t just leave you to it.”

“Ah. Also, am I really that noticeable?”

“Well let’s see,” she said. “Your hair is a complete mess, your… suit has the texture of a dead tree, and you walk around like some noble, though you clearly aren’t. I think a better question would be how someone couldn’t notice y-.”

She brought a hand to her mouth.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude. My mouth runs ahead of my head sometimes.”

“No. no, it’s alright,” I said. “No offense was taken. Thanks for pointing that out, I’m trying not to draw too much attention to myself.”

“Oh,” she said. “Then the pleasure is all mine. Anyway, now that I have saved you from being swindled by that thief, what are you up to now?”

“Well, I still need boots, so I’ll probably try my luck elsewhere.”

“Hm… if you don’t mind then I can tag along and help you out.”

“It’s okay, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No. It’s perfectly alright. I have my own errands to run here but it shouldn’t take too long. Besides! You helped me out once, so I feel obliged to help you out in turn.”

“Well if you put it that way...”

We traveled through the marketplace, from vendor to vendor in search of a decent pair of boots. In the following hour, it became highly apparent that the elf knew a great deal about the marketplace. It didn’t stop at the boots, she helped me scrounge up all sorts of other supplies.

She worked with surprising efficiency. I told her what I was looking for and she knew exactly which stall sold the goods. She talked me through what to look for in well-tailored clothes and leather. She would even haggle the merchants to lower their prices, which was even more impressive given what I knew about how elves were treated here.

By the time we were done, I was wearing a new set of boots, and hauling whole host of other supplies in my travelpack. All at the cost of 4 silvers.

“Thank you,” I said, as we stepped to one of the streets leading out of the market.

“No problem,” Shianni replied. “You know, it doesn’t seem like you deal with too many merchants before.”

“I suppose so. I never really had to deal with want for goods.”

“Really?”

I thought back. There actually never was a time where I ever had to deal directly with purchasing goods. Aunt Tiana handled all of that when I was a boy. The Church handled all of that when I was an initiate. The Alliance Military handled all of that when I became a full-fledged paladin.

“To a certain extent, I’ve always had other people take care of it for me.”

“So, you are some kind of noble after all?”

“Not quite…”

“But that sounds like exactly the type of thing nobles do. Have other people take care of all the petty stuff.”

“Well… I guess if you put it that way. But no, it isn’t the same.”

We walked quietly for a few moments.

“You are an interesting person Eratus,” she said. “I don’t think there is another human quite like you out here.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said.

“So… how much longer will you be here?” she asked.

“Can’t tell.” I thought back to the lie I told her the last time we met. “Only… a few ships go back to my homeland. Have to wait until one of them arrive. Till then, I guess I’m stuck here.”

“I see. Well, I hope to see you more often.”

She looked up at the sky, which was beginning to blur from blue to orange.

“It looks like it will be dark soon. I should get home.”

“Didn’t you need to go run some errands in the market?”

“Oh.” She shrugged, then laughed. “Guess they weren’t so important after all. Sorry I have to go!”

I stood there watching her scurry through the road, and out of sight. I felt a bit bad; it was nice not being swindled, but I didn’t mean to intrude on any business she had. Life was hard enough for elves here, and I didn’t want to saddle her with even more burdens. She must just be a really nice person. On a personal scale, she was definitely leaning towards one of the friendlier elves I’ve met thus far. Right alongside Merrill.

I wondered how she was doing. Among the Dalish, she seemed the most reasonable of the bunch. It wasn’t any of my business however. I stepped off the opposite direction, and back to the tavern.

***

By the time the tavern came into view the sky was a smear of yellow and orange colors. The sun loomed over the horizon, slowly drifting into the ocean. Foot traffic had grown less and less dense as the day began to end and it was nonexistent along this stretch of the road. All save for myself.

The road I was on was quiet now, save for the faint echoes of activity from busier paths. Everyone had retreated into their homes, probably in preparation to bed down and rest for the next day.

I trudged along, intending to do the same when the Lorekeeper’s voice piped up.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected a lifeform displaying hostile intent.”**

“What? Where?” I stopped, keeping my eyes peeled for any sudden movements. I didn’t reach for my sword this time. The Lorekeeper’s recent warnings on what he considered “dangerous” tended to be a bit overblown in the city. Still, it did help to be careful.

**“It is following you from behind.”**

I looked back. The street was as empty as ever. The Lorekeeper’s ability however was never wrong.

“Who’s there?” I said. “I know you have been following me. Show yourself!”

A few heartbeats passed, and a familiar figure stepped out from behind a building. The last time I saw her she was wrapped up in a blanket and had left in a hurry. Now, she seemed to have ditched the sheets for clothes. She wore a simple black tunic and a shawl that covered the bottom half her face. Not the same ones from the night; I knew that much given that I had torn them up as bandages to treat her wounds.

It was Knives or Tabris or whatever her actual name was. She stopped at the middle of the road and faced me, standing straight almost in defiance. One hand lowered the shawl, to reveal a mouth twisted into a scowl.

“I want the daggers back,” she said.

“Oh?” I said pulling the twin weapons from my belt. “You mean these?”

“They are mine.”

“Now is that any way to speak to someone who saved your life?”

She bit her lip, like she was aware of the fact while refusing to acknowledge it. Instead she doubled down with the enraged tone.

“They don’t belong to you. Return them.”

“I’m not too sure I want to. Tell me, is it custom to kick someone in the nethers after they took care of you?”

She broke eye contact and looked away. I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or shame or something else. It certainly wasn’t repentance.

“I think these daggers would be fair compensation,” I said then looked at the handle of one. “The engravings in the hilt is a nice touch.”

She glared back at me.

“If you don’t return them I’ll-.”

“Sorry but you’ll what? You’re wearing a cloth tunic and I have armor. You have no weapons from what I can tell while I have a sword. If the city-guard gets involved, whose word do you think they will take?”

She didn’t respond, but the anger and acknowledgement were visible from her body language. It felt harsh saying it but good at the same time. The memory and pain from her little stunt were still fresh in my mind.

We stood there at an impasse. I wondered what she was doing following me like this. Probably waiting for an opportunity to ambush me when I wasn’t paying attention. With the Lorekeeper however, the odds of that happening were slim to none.

I sighed. “Relax. I was half-expecting you to come to the inn to take them back there.”

I walked towards her. She bent her knees, shifting to a stance ready to pounce.

“Don’t try it,” I said.

She kept her gaze on me, but did nothing as I stepped closer. I tossed the daggers over to her feet.

She kept her eyes toward me as she knelt down and picked up the blades.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” I said. “I don’t know what you went through with humans but not all of us are like that.”

I turned back to the road, leaving her standing in the lonely street.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I must question your peculiar behavior at assisting lifeforms that have demonstrated hostile intent toward your well-being.”**

“She was going to keep chasing me until she got her things back. I’m not one inclined to murder in cold blood either, and that is not something I want to explain to the city guard. Especially not with the templars out for my blood.”

**“I see. Understandable.”**

I didn’t mention that I was thinking of pawning off the blades for more coin, but the Lorekeeper seemed to have not caught that. However, that just brushed wrong with me. The weapons weren’t really mine to give away in the first place, regardless of her earlier behavior.

I passed through the double doors of the inn.

“Another rough day?” the innkeep asked from behind the bar.

“M hm,” I replied.

We didn’t share any more words, and I stepped into my room. I put my travelpack on the ground and began to organize supplies for tomorrow’s expedition. As I did, I noticed several vials of blue liquid at the very bottom. Lyrium. I should probably dispose of it, especially given that I knew there were templars on my tail. Possession of this substance was illegal already, and odds are that someone would tie it back to what happened at the forest. Then I recalled something the Lorekeeper mentioned earlier.

“You mentioned that this had… some sort of power, right?”

**“Correct.”**

“In what sense?”

**“Unknown. The energy signature in the material is high.”**

“And in what manner would I be able to use this?”

**“Through the most common medium for organic life-forms. Ingestion.”**

Huh. That made it seem like some sort of mana potion, or the like. I weighed the options in my head and decided to pack them up in my bag for tomorrow. It might come in handy then. If not, then based on what Taoran said, I would probably be far enough away from the city to toss it out.

I finished packing my belongings, lay down on the bed, and sleep overtook me in seconds.


	19. Another Job

**_There is nothing adventurous about caverns…”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



The sea-side breeze whistled past my face. Unlike the last time I had walked among these plains, it was more comforting than freezing.

That wasn’t the only difference. The hills weren’t the gray and black landscape that I remembered it to be. The sun, approaching its highest point in the sky, shone upon the landscape, sending rays that glimmered off blades of grass and illuminated the flowers blooming from the green slopes. It had to be either Spring or Summer, if seasons even worked the same.

Unfortunately, plant-life wasn’t the only thing basking in the day’s warmth. Insects, scores of buzzing nuisances, were out in force. I didn’t have many fond memories of them back in Azeroth, especially during the summer months. I distinctly remembered the bumps and boils left by Alteran mosquitos on my skin when they did their rounds around the camps near Southshore. It was also then that a few enterprising mages from the city of Dalaran would set-up shop, selling tubs of magical insect repelling paste, which was a hot commodity among soldiers during those months. Surprisingly, even more so than beer.

Fortunately, none of the insects seemed to be bothering with me. There actually was a visible distance that they kept from my body, as if something about me was deterring them. It certainly wasn’t anything I was doing intentionally. I wondered if it had to do with the fact that I wasn’t part of this world. It was a common rumor that flies and mosquitos favored certain body-types and races, in the same way men and women favored certain foods. Maybe the fact that I wasn’t from here meant I wasn’t to their taste?

They certainly however, seemed to enjoy the local denizen walking ahead of me. I could see them swarm around him, buzzing in and around. Taoran Hawkwind waved at and slapped the insects in an understandable but ultimately futile gesture. He cursed several times under his breath as he tried to keep the prying creatures away.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have noticed that they hadn’t been going after me at all. It was just another thing that could draw more unwanted attention to myself. In fact, he hadn’t looked back or talked to me since we left the gate.

All of which was troubling. I had little to no idea about the upcoming job that we were about to face.

I set all my concerns to the back of my mind. The only thing that mattered was that the pay was enough to get me into the Chantry library.

The city was several miles away now, the walls and vagrant camps were long hidden behind the rolling green hills of Ferelden. All of which meant we were in the middle of nowhere. We had been walking for quite some time, enough for me to feel the blisters and skin chafe on my sore feet. However, my new boots held, and the pain wasn’t as sharp as with my old pair. I made a mental reminder to thank the red-headed elf for her help, and see if I could get her help anytime I ever needed to procure more supplies. It was always helpful to have a local point of contact. I think Shianni was her name.

The wind blew past my face, in a welcoming gesture of relief. The sun was starting to reach its peak, and the heat from its rays and my own physical exertion was causing me to build up a sweat. The leather plate-mail armor that the blacksmith Wade called a brigandine was lighter and less temperature-sensitive than plate, but it was still heavy and wasn’t exactly comfortable. At least I wasn’t marching around in the Badlands, where the sun could literally kill by boiling you inside out.

We trudged along, and at some point, we had drifted off the gravel road and onto a grassy trail. The terrain grew more treacherous. Grass shot up to our knees, dirt gave way to mud, and trees rose up around us in rising density. I could hear water trickling from nearby streams and creeks, and soon enough, we were in a small forest.

I didn’t know how Taoran was navigating without getting lost, but he must have had a damn good sense of direction, because he didn’t hesitate or stumble as we traveled. A rocky outcrop, really a couple of large boulders, caught my eye ahead. As we got closer, I could make out the figures of people below it.

There were six of them. Three were huddled together and crouching by a tree, while the rest stood around, waiting. Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that one group was subordinate to the other. The ones by the tree wore rags, beige tunics and pants with rips and tears. Their faces were turned away so I couldn’t tell their expressions, but the fear from their bodies was all too visible.

The others stood by the rocks, facing those huddled around the tree. They wore black cloaks and their heads were obscured by hoods, giving them the impression of a ghostly specter. It was the same group of people that we had escorted several nights ago.

I didn’t see the bald man, and given that the Lorekeeper hadn’t spoken up to warn me of a nearby mage, I assumed that meant he wasn’t here at all.

They were silent as usual, and didn’t seem to be participating in any kind of conversation. Even with the sun out, their clothes concealed everything. I couldn’t even see their eyes through the V-shaped slits of their helmets. All of it contributed to giving them an air of inhumanity.

The shortest of three cloaked figures dipped its head in our direction. It strode towards us, maintaining a straight poised posture, as if to say that it hardly deemed us a threat. I noticed the familiar golden bow strung along its back that glinted off the few beams of sunlight peering from the forest canopy.

“The Master told me that you were entertaining another attempt,” Deverra said, facing Taoran, then looked behind us. “Where are the rest?”

“Another attempt?” I asked.

“We tried to get the task done once,” Taoran replied. “It didn’t quite work out as expected.”

“I believe I have asked you a question,” Deverra said, her voice fidgeting in annoyance. “Is this all you have brought?”

Taoran turned back toward her. “Yes.”

She didn’t respond, not immediately. I couldn’t see her eyes through her helmet, but it was obvious that she was appraising us. As if to make the determination as if we were worthy to continue.

“Very well. If the master trusts your judgment on these matters, then I so shall I. Come.”

She turned and we followed her as she walked back towards the boulders. Along the way we passed by the rest of her cohort.

The fear that I sensed from afar was all but confirmed in the faces of the men huddled together. They were like deer sticking together, their eyes darting at the watchful eyes of the wolves around them. Then I began to recognize some of their garments. The haphazard clothes that were essentially a bunch of sewn patches. These were the same men who attacked us before on the road.

I didn’t know what the bald mage had intended, but I didn’t think that they were going to make it out alive. Surprisingly enough, they looked healthy. At least relative to the squalor and poverty that I saw in Denerim. Their faces had color which indicated they were well-nourished. I recalled that near all of the men were severely wounded, mortally so, by the end of the fight. Yet, here they were, lacking any signs of evisceration.

There were tools that were initially hidden from view, that I saw as we passed by. Pickaxes and shovels from the look of it. Excavation tools all caked with dirt. I guess this was what the mage had them up to. If so though, what exactly were they digging up?

The other two cloaked figures didn’t move but I could feel their eyes tracking our movements. I saw those men in action, and the vacant stares only added to a creeping sense of dread as we passed by. The feeling lingered even after we vanished out of sight, as Deverra led us around the boulder.

We came in front of a sizeable hole into the ground, probably about as deep as the average man was tall. At the bottom was a broken stone slab, the top inscribed with all manner of archaic characters I held little familiarity with. Beneath the slab however, was a black hole that continued into the ground. A tunnel.

This must have been what the men were working on. The feeling of unease only worsened as I guessed where we were about to go. The entire reason why I was stuck in this situation was because I ventured into a cavern. It didn’t go well that time, and I had no reason to believe it would go well now.

“What we are searching for can be found below,” Deverra said then pulled out two pieces of parchment and stretched them out in front of us.

“The artifact we are looking for is displayed here,” she said.

The first sheet had four images. A tome, a box, a jar, and a chest. Under them were written several words that was written in elvish but didn’t have any particular meaning. Gaxkang, Imshael, Xebenkeck, and something else that had faded away.

“And are we supposed to look for all of them?” I asked.

“There will only be one among the four. It is important to the master that the artifact is returned _intact_. We have also discovered the last known location of the artifact in question.”

I looked at the second sheet. It was a map of some sort. It described some sort of tunnel system, with a black smudge at the very top indicating the entrance, which was likely the hole that we were directly above. There were a series of caverns, halls, and rooms all leading down. The sheet was once part of a greater map because the system of rooms continued off the page.

In the middle of the sheet, someone had scrawled an X, as if to indicate this was where we were to go.

She wrapped the two pieces of parchment back up then handed them to Taoran, who raised a hand to turn them away.

“I won’t be needing that,” he said, then nudged towards me. “This fellow here will be journeying down alone.”

“What?” I asked.

“Yes,” Taoran said. “You heard me.”

“We only have so many copies of these documents,” Deverra said. “It would displease the master to lose any more.” 

“And I I’m not going down that hole,” Taoran replied. “There isn’t anything worth it for me to try my luck in those caverns.”

He then pointed back to me. “This one however, is willing. He was with us before and I can attest to his abilities. I am quite confident he will acquire whatever artifact you are looking for.”

“Very well,” said Deverra. “But if you fail on your promise, then the master will not be pleased,”

She looked towards me. “Will you be willing to take on this venture?”

I thought about it for a moment, weighing all the risks in my head.

“Just a few questions,” I asked.

“Go on,” she replied.

“If it is really that important, why not take the venture yourself or better yet, why not go together?” I said. “You lot seem quite capable on your own.”

“There are circumstances surrounding us that prevent us from doing so, which is why we have looked to hiring “professionals” to do so in our stead.”

I looked at Taoran then back at her.

“So, I take it I will be going on this venture alone.”

“That is correct.”

I looked back in the hole. At least this meant I would be able to use the Light if any trouble came up, without worry of someone scampering towards the Chantry.

“Will I be rewarded my earnings once the task is complete?”

“Yes,” she said. “The money as promised is with us. We will exchange for the artifact once it is in your possession.”

“And why couldn’t you just take the artifact after I get it for you? Why pay me at all?”

“We are looking to establish a trust with your organization. Our purpose here is one that will require more services, provided you can accomplish them,” she replied, looking at Taoran. “You will merely have to take our word for it.”

“Right…,” I said, then turned towards Taoran. “You mentioned you tried this before. What exactly did you encounter that made you stop?”

“No idea,” Taoran replied. “I didn’t go with the team. They just never came back out.”

That wasn’t very reassuring.

If they had failed once, what were the odds that I would be able to take this on alone. Even if I could, what was to prove they wouldn’t just take the artifact and leave me for dead? If I made it out, I doubt it was going to be unscathed, while the rest of them would be well-rested.

At the end of it, I didn’t have much of a choice. Not if I was going to figure out a way out of this world in any meaningful amount of time. I ultimately put my faith in the word of these people. Whatever that was worth.

Besides, it wasn’t like I had faced too many things in this world that would have given me trouble.

“Very well,” I said, raising an open hand toward Deverra. “Let us get on with it then.”

“Excellent,” she said, then handed the scrolls over. I wrapped up the scrolls and tied it my belt.

“Alright,” I said, looking at Deverra and Taoran. “How long will I have to do this?”

“For as long as you require,” she said. “Bear in mind we will be watching the entrance carefully.”

I took that as meaning, not to try anything like running smart like running off with the artifact once I found it. 

I slid down the hole to the broken stone slab.

The archaic symbols looked familiar, and then I realized they were not symbols but words. Words from the runic alphabet, specifically dwarven. I wasn’t by any means fluent, but I the words scrawled across were common enough during my time in Ironforge that I was able to recognize them, although never in this particular order.

_Deep Roads. Entrance._

It certainly did look deep into the ground.

I took a large breath to ease my nerves, lit a torch with some flint, squeezed through the entrance and into the depths below.


	20. The Deep Roads

**_“Our world possesses a far greater number of races than Thedas (even if we exclude those of the Horde). There are three here that bear a remarkable similarity to our own, even going as far ahead as being referred to by the same name. Humans, as my previous recordings have demonstrated. Elves, although their stature (both physical and cultural) are severely diminished. And the Dwarves._ **

**_I haven’t spoken much on the dwarves, frankly because I haven’t met one in-person. At least not yet. However, their influence is everywhere. The common language spoken here was invented by dwarven traders. (as it so was in our world) Human castles and settlements are derived from dwarven architecture. The descriptions are the same as well. Everything point towards them as being short, stocky, and unhealthily desiring in liquor. All known permanent dwarven settlements (of which I have only heard one, Orzammar) are underground. However, they are few in number. The primary cause being some great catastrophe known as the Blight, of which, I had first-hand experience during my foray into the caverns known as the Deep Roads…”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



I swore to myself I would be careful, right as the tunnel swerved to the right and I smacked my head into a rock with a clunk. Again.

There was a flash of pain as I recoiled and tripped back. I managed to keep one hand onto the torch while the other massaged my sore forehead. Pain gave way to irritation, both at myself, because this was the third time, and at the tunnel complex, which was uneven, winding, and clearly not built for someone of my size, or for regular traffic.

I was never a big fan of going underground. Everything was rough and craggy, with sudden drops and crevices that I could barely make out in the dim light of the torch.

It was disconcerting. If the stone seal earlier was any sign, whoever built this had no intention of it being used ever again. All of which begged the question on what exactly was down here in the first place.

Droplets of water glimmered along the sides of the tunnel. The air smelled like a mix of mildew and dirt. Even worse, I could feel the dust cling to my face and get under my clothes, as if the threading of the tunic wasn’t irritating enough already.

The tunnel’s slope wasn’t steep, but I still had to worry about balance. A few more steps, and I paused to pull out the map.

The figures on it were faded even in daylight, so the faint light from my torch only made it harder to see. I squinted, trying to trace the passageway that I was on. It was one long tunnel that careened down until it reached a chamber.

I had no idea how much further it would take. My sense of time had all but vanished in the ever-shifting landscape of the tunnel. All I knew was that it meant I didn’t have to worry about any direction except ahead. At least not yet. I folded the map into a pouch and trudged on.

Helpful signs of progress began to appear. The tunnel walls smoothened out, then began to open up, until I had ample space to stand up straight, without worry of slamming my head into another crevice. The texture shifted to, from unhewn rock to something resembling paved pebbles.

The tunnel swerved once more, and opened up into a dark chamber.

It was a room, probably as big as the common area of the inn I was staying at in Denerim. There was a flat ceiling above, and in the distance, the torch revealed the corners of a rectangle. There was little else in the room, save several stone pillars. The floor was smooth as well, but caked with layers of dust, and several footprints that were not my own, leading out towards a curved doorway on the opposite wall from where I entered.

I leaned down for a closer view. Bootprints, and human from the looks of it. Probably, from the initial expedition. At least I knew they had made it this far.

My sense of unease was rising. Aunt Tiana always told me that it is most dangerous when the forest goes still. During the Alterac Campaign, I learned that same lesson applied to more places than just forests.

In this room, I did not hear anything. Not even the squeal of a rat, nor the drips of water from the tunnel.

I stood back up, walking towards the pillars and the walls, shaking off the paranoia. They were furnished with slanted and ridged designs. Triangles and squares with sharp angles. Dwarven architecture. The same I had recalled during my last visit to Ironforge.

It reminded me of another place. Then the Lorekeeper, answered the question.

**“This complex appears to be of Titan-make.”**

“Well you’ve been rather quiet recently.”

**“I have been observing your surroundings and there were no instances that required further feedback.”**

The Lorekeeper’s gnomish project suddenly popped into existence next to me, and I jolted back.

“Could you warn me the next time you do that?”

The gears on his neck shifted, turning his head and his yellow eyes towards mine.

**“Apologies. I will comply in future occurrences.”**

“Thank you. So, is this place similar to your own?”

The mechanical gnome, stepped to the closest wall, peering at the walls and pillars.

**“Signs indicate a high likelihood. They are of earthen-design. A lesser variant of the Titan-keepers, originally designed for manual labor and shaping the elements into usable functions.”**

“By any chance, are these “earthen” stubby, bearded, short, and have grouchy personalities?”

**“If by the last criteria you mean to have a high-temperament, then yes.”**

That sounded like a dwarf to me. There was something that bugged me about how the Lorekeeper relegated their duties to essentially slave labor. Before I could entertain that line of thought further, he spoke again.

**“There are anomalies.”**

“Anomalies?”

**“If this is an earthen complex, Titan-constructs should be nearby. However, I have scanned this entire super-structure based off navigational data and have detected no such entities, or interfaceable terminals. This is a significant deviation from conventional processes.”**

I suppose that would be odd. It would be like seeing an entire city without a single living soul. Then something that the Lorekeeper mentioned hit me.

“Wait. You mentioned navigation. Does that mean you know where we are?”

“ **Correct. The data was processed from the artifact that you procured several cycles ago. It depicts a complete sketch of this complex.”**

The gnome vanished, then was replaced by a series of blue shapes. They were squares and rectangles all interconnected like a massive structure. Near the top of the projection was a blinking white dot, right inside one of the squares. On top of it was a winding cylinder that spiraled up into nothingness.

It took but a moment for me to realize that this was a map of the entire area.

“You know this really would have been helpful earlier.”

**“You never requested this data. It seemed that the information provided by the earlier entities was sufficient for you to navigate.”**

I was about to say something then decided to keep my mouth shut. Regardless, this was far better than trying to squint down at the map. With this, I didn’t even have to worry about ever getting lost.

This map really did leave out just how big the entire complex was. Even the Lorekeeper’s projection couldn’t cover the sheer scale, judging by how the images faded out at the edges, indicating the presence of more rooms and hallways. It reminded me of the blueprints for the Deeprun Tram. A true underground road.

Now that I thought about it, “Deep Roads” was a pretty accurate description.

**“This is a graphical recreation of the complex.”**

“And the flashing white dot. Is that indicating our current location?”

**“Correct.”**

According to the map, the rooms were divided into descending levels, starting from the ground floor. We were currently at the 2nd level. The artifact, according to the parchment, was to be found on the 5th.

There wasn’t any time to waste. I traced the closest passageway I could on the map and began moving in that direction.

We passed through room after room in a slow descent down the earth, the projection guiding me along.

The light of my torch illuminated nothing noteworthy in the passages and rooms. For the most part they all looked the same, with minor changes in the states of disarray and decay. Crumbling stone foundations. Dust on the ground.

“Lorekeeper. You mentioned that this construct was of Titan-make. I’m guessing the Titans then had a presence on this world. Right?”

**“Correct.”**

“How many worlds have the Titans have a presence on?”

**“Unknown but I have surmised at least 314 planetary bodies since the last known rotation.”**

“And the Titans also had a presence on Azeroth as well correct?”

**“Correct.”**

If what the Lorekeeper was saying was true…

On my next step I felt the ground begin to slide down. I reacted fast enough to leap back before the stone floor fell apart and took the rest of me with it. The sound of rocks smashing through the ground echoed through the chambers. Dust billowed out, sending a smokescreen that blurred my vision.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Are you alright?”**

“I-I’m fine.”

The dust began to settle, revealing an uneven hole on the floor. I peered over the edge, holding my torch over it.

The drop itself wasn’t that deep. Not enough to have killed me if I fell, but I had no doubt it would have been painful. Wherever I was, I realized I should have been more careful given how everything looked in disarray.

I turned my attention back to the shimmering projection of the map. The room below was along the way. A shortcut.

I tracked a good spot to land, crouched, then leapt down. There was a soft punt and another burst of dust as I landed on the floor below. My right boot landed on a pebble that I didn’t notice, which sent a spasm of pain up my foot.

After shrugging it off, I noticed the room below was really a hallway. Long enough that the light of my torch failed to reach beyond a few feet from where I stood. Beyond which was a yawning darkness.

That same dreadful feeling returned. I would have thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but it seemed even more quiet than before.

I took a deep breath and continued on ahead, and the hallway gave way to another chamber.

I thought it would be like the rest of them. Square-shaped. Empty minus some debris and dust along the floor. Three door-shaped openings placed in the middle of each wall.

However, the walls of this room were far more decorated. Atop each of the exit ways, there were three enormous faces, chiseled into the stone.

Dwarven faces at that too. The structure of the face lacked any sign of smoothness, the edges accentuated. Honestly, I was relieved at the change.

I stepped toward the exit that would take me closer to my destination. However, as I was about to pass through, I noticed something glimmer from the side of one of the imposing structures.

I stepped toward it for a closer look. It was a dark streak that glistened in the torchlight. I swiped a finger against it. It came off like a sticky liquid, with a bit of crustiness in the texture. I had treated enough wounds to know what it was. Blood. Human blood.

The air in the room was moist, which kept it from drying out. However, this was new. It could have been anywhere from a few hours to a few days since the mark was left.

I followed the smear along the dwarven face to the wall and to several drops along the floor, that led, to the exit under the statue and into one of the other rooms. At the end of it were several scraps of bloodied leather.

I kneeled and picked it up from the floor. The leather looked like it had been torn off, by some sharp instrument. It was consistent with the vests that I had seen worn by the Blackstone Irregulars. There was another splatter of blood, sprayed against a nearby pillar, that told me someone had been struck here.

This was most likely the from initial expedition sent down. Something had attacked them at this spot. And just with my luck, they were following the route that I had to take to reach the artifact.

I drew my sword, and stepped forward.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I must warn you that I have detected elevated levels of corruption along this path.”**

“Lorekeeper,” I mouthed. “There isn’t anything nearby is there?”

**“My sensors do not indicate any lifeforms, hostile or otherwise, within our vicinity.”**

That was not what I wanted to hear. The Lorekeeper’s supernatural sense of nearby organisms was one of the key tools that I depended on. Without it, I very well may be walking into an ambush.

Still, I had no other choice now but to push forth. I shook off the feeling of dread as I followed the trail of blood to the other room.

With each step, each crick of my boot, I could see more and more signs of the expedition, none of which were good. Splatters and trails of blood. More pieces of leather. I even stopped to collect a torn coin-pouch. Which, only sent me further on edge. Whatever happened here, was enough to convince a mercenary that their own money wasn’t worth it. Judging by their direction, the attack had also come from behind, which meant they had no choice but to continue ahead.

More and more remnants built up, until I was led to an enormous gaping hole, where an entryway once stood.

Judging by the crumbled pieces of stone lying around, this hole was not caused by natural decay. Something big had come through here, and based on what I saw in the next room, was the ultimate demise of the initial expedition.

Upon entering I was greeted with the sight of dozens of corpses. Some of them wore the mercenary outfits of the Blackstone Irregulars. Others wore, little more than cloth and makeshift weapons. The same people who had attacked the convoy several nights ago.

I went up to the corpse in the middle. Although it lay face down, it was a human, that much I could gleam. The armor was a familiar shade of black.

After flipping over the body, seeing the face of one of the men who first accompanied me on that first night-job to the coast. The man had long since passed but the terror of his death was frozen upon his face.

I sighed in disappointment. It was a brutal end. A living testament to the dangers of mercenary work.

“Light be with you,” I said and shut the man’s eyes. I didn’t know if it did any good for their souls, but one could hope.

The wounds themselves told me more. There were dents along the armor, as if someone had repeatedly tried to puncture it to no avail, alongside open wounds around weak spots along the neck, armpit, and knees. The man had been outnumbered and faced more than just a single opponent.

I stood back up and took a look around. There were blood smears along the pillars, along with visible dents. At the bottom were dead bodies. One of the attackers was big, big enough to pick up a grown man and toss him mid-air. Probably the same thing that destroyed the wall.

Then I noticed several figures, too small to be a human in the outskirts. I walked over and flipped it over.

The smell of rotten eggs and sulfur rushed through my nose. I started to gag and resisted the urge to hurl. Not even the so-called troggs that I had encountered smelled this bad.

“What in the world…”

I laid my torch down to get a better look.

It was one of the ugliest things I had ever seen in my life. Its head was wrinkled and bald, with a few tufts of black hair sprouting from random crooks along the top. Its bones stretched through its skin and its eyes were sunken, giving it the impression of a skeleton. Its teeth were sharp like a carnivore.

“Lorekeeper. Any idea what this thing is?”

**“Scanning… unknown. High levels of corruption detected, but not enough to be a fully corruptive entity.”**

My guess was that this was among the foes that the expedition had fought.

Yet, there was something about the whole scene. Then I realized it was the array of some of the corpses. As if they had been dragged around, long after they had died. I trailed it back further, and the first clues didn’t make any sense. The streak of blood along the dwarf’s face. The piecemeal bits of cloth leading to this very room. It was like they were put there intentionally, designed to lure someone to this very spot.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I have detected hostile intent from multiple lifeforms within our vicinity.”**

I realized it at the same time a deep growl rumbled from behind me.

I turned, just to see a whirl of green and black charge towards me from one of dark corners of the room. My hands moved out of instinct, forged by years of dealing with ambushes just like this. They drew the symbols of the seal in the air, and the barrier flared to life just as I saw the glint of steel barreling towards my face.

There was a flash of light as the weapon impacted the shield.

My attacker yelped as his weapon recoiled back. The flare illuminated the entire room, revealing scores of crouching figures, hiding along crevices in the ceiling, their skeletal and hideous faces twisted in rage. All of them began to drop down to the ground, charging towards me with their weapons.

My heart pummeled from the gravity of the situation. The first ambusher snarled and leapt towards me, once again.

I thrust my sword forward. Right as the creature’s blow landed flat against the barrier, my own blade cut through its center.

It shrieked, spitting out black bile in a death rattle that coated the dome of light.

I snarled in disgust, mainly from the smell, and pulled my blade off the body. The creature fell shrieking in a growing pool of bile and blood. There was no time to celebrate this small victory, as the rest of them began to close in.

Another leapt towards me.

“Damn it!” I yelled swung my sword.

It caught the monster in its side. My attention turned as two more approached. Then another. And another.

There were too many. I dropped my sword and stretched my hands out, channeling the light to extend the barrier to a dome around me. Their weapons wailed against the barrier, causing cracks to reverberate throughout the dome.

There were dozens of them, some even began climbing atop the others to reach me. It was just like with the troggs at the bridge.

Except this time, I had a few more abilities up my sleeve. I freed one hand and began to draw the symbol in the air. 

I had never used it in combat before, and had only practiced it the hand gestures in my room. One more focused on harnessing holy energy for offensive than defensive or protective measures.

Corruption, as the Lorekeeper called it, was weak to Light. Hopefully, these monsters were as vulnerable as that thing I faced in the forest.

The symbol **Consecration** was complete, and embedded itself into the palm of my hand, right as the creatures began to tear chips out of the dome, faster than I could channel light to repair it.

I slammed it to the ground.

Light energy rushed out of my core, faster than any other seal I had used, towards my hand and through the ground around me. It spurred towards the creatures, shooting up through their feet in lightning-fast tendrils.

They fell back, shrieking and screaming. They fell to the ground as the light coiled and crackled up their skin with the sound of escaping skin, before bursting aflame with holy energy. The energy demanded by the seal, surged like a tidal wave, draining my core at an alarming rate that I tried to stem.

I couldn’t control it and pulled my hand off the ground. The backlash from the connection sent me tumbling backwards. My barrier crumbled.

However, the seal had done what I needed it to do. All of my attackers were floundering on the ground, their death wails echoing through the rooms as holy fire burned them inside out. Within moments, most of them lay still, leaving nothing but blackened crisps and a noxious smell in the air.

I had to resist the urge to hurl. It was like getting a full whiff of the Stormwind sewers in the summer.

I got back up and pulled up my sleeve and looked at my mana band. Levels had already dropped to 60%.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, levels of corruption are rising. Corrupted entities are approaching our vicinity. I recommend we immediately evacuate the premises.”**

As if to prove the Lorekeeper’s point I heard a howl, louder than anything I heard so far, from one of the rooms, followed by a clutter of smaller shrieks and bellows.

There was no time to waste. I picked up my sword and the torch, then backtracked through the rooms. I had no idea what I was dealing with, and I needed time to recollect myself. It was a simple tactical decision, drilled in through years of experience. When in doubt, retreat, rally, then roll up a better plan.

I had to thank the Light for the Lorekeeper’s map. Without it, I most certainly would have gotten lost. The doorways and rooms blurred, and their uniformity gave the sense that I was running about in circles. It didn’t help that the sounds of the creatures echoed from behind, getting louder with each passing moment.

I had reached the long hallway and passed by the hole that I had leapt down from. There was no way back up so that left me with no choice but to continue forward.

There was a doorway leading into another room. The moment I entered was the moment that I had made a mistake. All the doorways here had collapsed. It was a dead-end, and the sound of the approaching creatures was only getting louder and louder.

There was no way out, which left only one alternative. I readied my sword, still slick with the black blood of my last foe, and turned to face whatever was approaching.

Two of them appeared in the hallway, rapidly converging on my location. They were short, squat, and armed with small metal shivs, much like the ones I faced before.

I moved forward in front of the doorway and activated the barrier. Translucent light formed a dome around me, while keeping the entrance sealed. As the creatures approached, they were funneled through the narrow opening one by one, making them easy pickings for my follow-on strikes.

As each creature smacked into the barrier, I skewered them with my blade. As the one in front fell, the one behind clambered over, only to meet the same fate at the end of the sword. It was an old war tactic that Captain Falmore always used to harp. When against greater numbers, fight from a chokepoint.

The mob of monsters continued to pile up the narrow doorway, constraining the movements of the next wave. Mana levels remained steady, and it seemed like I would be able to whittle them down to a standstill.

Then there was a roar, far more visceral and dangerous than the shrieks and screams earlier. Something stepped out of the darkness of the hallway. It was as tall as me and a half, and about as bulky as a strong human. Its face had the same sunken features as the gremlins that I had just faced, and its mouth was twisted into a permanent smile.

If that wasn’t enough, the thing was brandishing a sword that was jagged into a crude curve.

It stepped up to the doorway, but out of range of my attacks. We stared each other down.

“Do you speak?” I asked.

The thing didn’t answer. Its eyes bored onto me, then to the white dome of light. I didn’t realize that it was measuring something, specifically the range that I would be able to strike back. Specifically, its greater reach meant that it could attack the dome without any fear of retaliation from me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize this until it let out another roar, lifted its blade up, and swung down. The blow sent ripples across my barrier, I held out a hand to channel more energy to repair the damage.

It attacked again, its blade whipping faster than my eyes could follow, and smashed against the barrier. I felt light woosh out of my core, draining energy at an alarming rate.

I was going to be run dry if I kept this up. The other creatures around it screeched in joy with each blow. I couldn’t fight back, not without pushing ahead and leaving my flanks open. If I drew the barrier down, the way would be opened which would leave me open to be swarmed. If I stayed in place, it would only be a matter of time before the monster in front of me whittled my energy reserves to null.

Another shockwave ran through the barrier as the blade clashed against the dome.

I fumbled through, drawing the Consecration seal with my free hand when I noticed a crack in the dome.

Apparently so did my foe, because his next strike was aimed right center on that weak spot. The metal crashed through the barrier and struck through.

Pain erupt out as the point of the blade shot through my right shoulder. The point caught a weak spot in the armor, between two metal plates, and had cut through the leather and into flesh. Within an instant, there was another flash of pain as the creature drew its blade back. My sword clattered to the ground as I lost my grip. The mob of creatures jeered and roared at the strike, while I clenched my teeth, trying to focus through the pain.

I got a better look at its face. It was like someone had taken a human skull and plastered the bare minimum amount of flesh on it to keep it functioning. The smell of rotten eggs returned.

The thing was winding up for another strike, right as I finished the seal and plunged my hand down.

Energy streamed through my fist and outward through the floor, sending any of the unsuspecting creatures aflame with holy fire. The bigger one was caught as well, and it panicked as the tendrils of light set his skin on fire.

I used that moment to cut off the flow of energy and pick up my sword with my uninjured arm. I wasn’t used to wielding weapons this way but it wasn’t hard to take a few steps forward and run the blade through my foe.

The sword caught the thing through its stomach. My barrier had crumbled away, so the black bile from the wound sprayed onto my face.

The creature screamed and dropped its sword. I lurched my blade free, causing my foe to fall forward, then swung, separating its head from its body.

With the immediate threat dead, I took a knee on the ground. Blood was dripping out of my shoulder wound, but it wasn’t gushing, which was good. If it was, I was as good as dead.

There was something else though. I could feel wisps of light out of my core shroud the wound. The light wasn’t healing the wound, more like fighting off something black that had been left behind by the blade. Whatever it was, it had only been there a moment before it shriveled away as the wisps of light attacked it.

The brigandine itself was in decent condition. It was pure luck that the monster’s blow had caught the edges of two of the metal plates. That being said, I reminded myself to get something a bit more reliable on my next go around at the market. I stood up, holding my sword with my free arm.

I lowered my travelsack and took out a bandage, wrapping the cloth over the wound.

Beyond the hallway were the burned remnants of the attackers. I was lucky that whatever these things were, they were weak to the Light. Without it, I very well would have suffered the same fate as the last expedition.

Whatever these things were, they attacked without care or abandon and were perhaps one of the deadlier foes I had met on this world. I pondered whether they were the very reason the dwarves had abandoned these tunnels.

I tied off the bandage once it covered the wound and stood back up.

“Lorekeeper can you bring up the map?”

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, there is a larger presence still approaching your- “**

The Lorekeeper’s voice was muddled out as I heard an explosion of crumbling rock down the hallway, followed by the ground shaking with the sound of approaching footsteps. They grew louder with each interval approaching through the hallway. I stepped away from the doorway out of instinct, as I saw the outline of something massive approach.

Good thing too because the narrow opening blew out as a fist punched through stone wall. I raised an arm to shield my face from the rain of pebbles and stone shards.

In front of the hole was something enormous whose size rivaled that of the ogres from Azeroth, except this thing was far more muscular. Not just the doorway but the top half of the stone wall as well. Its skin was the same color as the foes that I had just faced, complemented with massive horns atop its head and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Its hands had claws the size of daggers.

It turned its gaze down and bellowed a roar.


	21. Chapter 21- The Blighted Ruins

**“Captain Falmore often told us not to overestimate ourselves.”**

  * **From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood**



The giant hand rose then fell.

I raised my left arm. Light surged out, coalescing into a barrier. Then the flow sputtered and ceased. I willed and focused, but to no avail. I had exhausted my core.

The shield shattered like glass.

My legs registered the event faster than my mind, and leapt right as the claws slammed into the spot where I had just been standing.

The stone floor splintered out from the impact point, and erupted. I darted away from the quaking floor, right as I saw the whirl of another clawed hand rake the air in front of me, sending a gust of wind in its aftermath.

That was enough to set me off balance, and I fell. The fist continued to glide and crashed into one of the dwarven rock faces. Stone shards spewed out in all directions, pelting me like shrapnel. Another earth-shaking vibration rippled through the room.

Everyone thinks bigger means slower, at least in folk stories. Stories also tended get people killed.

The shadow of the creature loomed over me as my torch rolled to one of the corners of the room. The thing was fast but didn’t have much in armor. It was naked, save for armor around its groin, and a spiked shoulderpad and vambrace that looked more for show than use.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Analysis indicates…”**

The Lorekeeper’s voice drowned out, as I focused on the task at hand. It was distracted, trying to pull its hand out of the wall.

I leapt ahead, avoiding the cracked and uneven floor, and with my left arm drove the sword toward its exposed side. There was a shriek as I felt the tip of blade sunk through skin, then stopped. Black blood gushed out of the puncture, and I pushed, as best I could with a single hand. It was like trying to cut through chainmail.

It tore its hand free from the stone, sending out another spray of dust that obscured my sight. I blinked through and just barely saw the fist barreling towards my direction. My sword slit free from the wound as I dashed back.

If it wasn’t livid already, it proved it by sending another deafening roar. I got a good look at its open mouth revealing twin rows of jagged teeth.

I grit my teeth and steadied my grip on the sword, shrugging off the sharp pain from the wound on my right shoulder and the growing fatigue in my left arm.

The fight resumed with my opponent taking a step forward, and swiped at me from the left. The arm whistled through the air like an arrow. I dodged the only way I could and dashed back.

Before I could get my bearing, another arm swiped from the right, faster than the last one, and I managed to avoid it in kind. By the time I landed, its other arm was already primed.

The flurry of blows continued, and I continued to jump back with each sweep. My breathing went from huffing to wheezing as I pushed myself my legs to move. Sweat had drenched my clothes, and each effort to dodge grew slower and more futile. The monster seemed to suffer none of that, each attack approaching as fast as the last.

I couldn’t keep this up. I needed to fight back. In all honesty, it was out of force of habit. Get out of the line of fire, open up opportunities for Alamere, Singlepipe, or Bluebeard to exploit. However, I was alone here.

With my next dash, I found myself backed into the wall. A fist the size of my torso shot towards my face.

I dove down, feeling the attack graze past my hair. There was a crunching sound as stone crumbled. Dust and shards pelted my neck. When I looked up, I saw the beast’ exposed belly. Seeing the chance, I pushed myself up and forward, through the screaming fatigue in my legs, and drove the sword forward.

The blade sunk through skin, and stopped. It was not enough.

There was a shriek then out of the corner of my vision, I saw a foot rearing towards me. There was a flash of pain in my gut as I was lifted sideways. I choked as the air was expelled from my chest. Darkness crawled around my vision, when I saw a set of claws sweep through the air.

I was sent flying through the air. Agony erupted from my ribs as the creature’s nails sheared through the armor, the metal plates of the brigandine doing little to absorb the impact. My travelsack was torn loose, the contents splaying outwards. I skidded then rolled across the floor, coming to a halt against the opposite wall.

Captain Falmore’s sword arrived a moment later, clinking across the ground and resting against my foot.

My chest was on fire, and it was like trying to breathe through a pipe. In spite of everything, I hefted myself up, even while every bruise, every scrape, every muscle burned through the effort. My brigandine billowed off my chest. There was jagged slit in the armor from where the claws struck, leaving it little more than a mass of shredded leather and crooked metal. I looped my left arm under the neck cuff and let it slide to the ground.

Shattered bricks fell, as the giant tore its arm out of the wall. I watched as it shifted its gaze to me.

Its breath smoked out from its nostrils. The slits around its body knit back together. It really was like some oversized forest troll, except with horns growing out of the back of its head than its mouth. Strength, endurance, reach, and now regeneration. It thumped toward me, each step sending tremors through the room.

I wobbled forward. It was like wading through water with a boulder attached to my limbs. I managed to bend over to reach and pick up the sword.

My grip was unsteady, whether it was from fear or exhaustion or both. My mind was racing through every possible solution. The mana band on my wrist read 5%. Any barrier I could draw now was not going to hold. There was no way I was going to be able to outrun it. I barely had the physical strength to dodge another blow.

Then a gnome appeared in front of me. His erratic hand movements caught my attention, and the Lorekeeper’s voice cut through my train of thought.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. My analysis states that you are not able to combat or evade the current entity in your current physical state. If you perish in this encounter, the likelihood of my survival afterwards will diminish to null.”**

“I know that… Any ideas?”

The creature was half-way towards us. The Lorekeeper pointed toward my foot. There was a vial there, shimmering with blue light.

**“The substance in that container is estimated to provide potential augmentation. Please, ingest it as soon as feasibly possible...”**

I bent down and picked it up. Lyrium.

I knew the dangers of trying out potions without understanding what they did. Too many instances of seeing side effects gone awry. However, the Lorekeeper wasn’t wrong. His guidance often had unintended consequences, but he never had been wrong. At least not yet.

Besides, I had exhausted all other options, and I wasn’t about to die here. I had a promise to keep.

I grabbed the vial, bit and spat the cork off, then drained the contents down my mouth.

My throat clenched up out of habit. I was half-expecting it to taste foul, most potions tended to be that way. Instead, it was… refreshing? Sweet almost. Like pure water.

I swallowed the last bit, right as my massive opponent loomed over me, raising a clawed hand.

Then time slowed to a crawl.

It wasn’t just because I was facing my own mortality. I knew that feeling. From one too many brushes with death in the last four years.

No, this was something else.

I felt something bubbling out from my chest to my limbs. Wave after wave of warm sensation. It washed away all the aches, sores, and bruises that I had accumulated. The world sharpened, as if someone swept away a haze that was there.

There was something prickling the gash on my injured shoulder. My eyes shifted toward it. The earlier attack had torn off the bandage, and I saw new skin grow over the wound. In the blink of eye, the cut disappeared altogether.

I hadn’t felt this good in years. If ever. Lethargy, anxiety, fatigue all faded away, replaced only with resolve. I felt like I could move mountains with my hands and cross oceans with my feet. The core of light in my being was now brimming with energy, overflowing to the point that it radiated and wisped off my skin. My eyes followed one of the tendrils as it floated up, toward the giant fist that was closing down upon me.

I raised my own hand up high, forming the sigil with my fingers, and let the light flow out.

The dome that appeared shone like the afternoon sun. There was a wail from my opponent, jerking from the blinding light. Its hand still found purchase, sending a boom of noise and dust out from the impact.

The shield held. As solid as truesilver, and not a crack in sight.

The recoil from the blow and the light had set my opponent off balance. I closed the distance. My legs were as light as feathers, and a single step sent me unexpectedly flying through the air. With the sword in both hands, I sweeping with all my strength at its right knee.

The blade sheared through the joint. The creature shrieked in agony as momentum carried me forward, and away. I pressed my feet onto the floor before I went out of range, skidding to a halt near the opposite wall.

The monstrosity tried to charge, but could only muster up a limp. I recalled a moment from the past. During one of the few “sparring” matches I had against Singlepipe. _“Always go after the limbs. Size means nothing if they can’t fight back.”_

An idea got in my head. I ran towards my enemy, and as I drew close it drew its fist down upon me with a roar. The force rippled through the air, but my shield held, leaving the hand splayed against it. I hacked the sword down like a blunt instrument, chopping through the palm. There was a scream of agony, and the hand lifted, exposing the elbow. I wasted no time, and reared the blade around then back up, cutting sending a spray of black blood to the floor.

Even with two limbs down, it managed to scuffle up the will and strength to retaliate as its other arm swept down. The barrier rumbled once more, but held.

I repeated the maneuver on the other set of limbs, causing the creature to draw back, with three of its four limbs ruined.

However, I pressed the offensive, charging past it from the left while undercutting its remaining leg. With all of its limbs ruined, the creature fell flat.

I stood there, watching as it roared and struggled in fury. Its body shifting around, even as its arms and legs flopped around uselessly. Muscle, skin, and sinew began to knit itself back together.

I needed to end this, before it got back up or before the noise attracted any other unfriendly predators. I stepped towards its neck, raised the sword up high, and brought it down like an executioner’s blow.

Then there was silence.

I gasped and panted from the exertion, and immediately regretted doing so. There was a horrid stench that permeated the air. The cause was rather evident. From the dead bodies littering the doorway to the smears of blood and other vile fluids had been sprayed all over my clothes. Captain Falmore’s sword was completely coated in it.

I had no idea what these things were, and whether or not they were the cause of the dwarves’ departure or if they moved in after the fact. However, their presence was probably a good reason nobody ever came back.

Wisps of light continued to float off my skin. Curiously enough, whenever they petered toward the foreign fluids, causing them to bubble evaporate into smoke, leaving nothing but a dried patch in the midst.

The ink-like substance wasn’t conducive to the Light. My first thought was fel energy, but that couldn’t be it. However, I had time to figure that out later.

The Lorekeeper appeared next to me, surveying the site with its eyes.

**“All hostile entities have been taken care of. Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I believe congratulations are in order.”**

“Not yet… Also. Why weren’t you able to detect them earlier? Back in the last chamber. They were in the same room as us.”

**“That remains unknown. I do not detect any faults with my capabilities. It must be the nature of the entities that interferes with my sensors.”**

I sighed. There were still a ways to go, and there were probably going to be many more ambushes like this one ahead. On the bright side, I now had another tool up my sleeve.

I walked to the opposite side of the room, where my travelsack was splayed on the ground, along with half of its contents. Bandages, cloth rolls, extra torches, flint, and so on. Most of them were intact, much to my relief.

I stepped past them and to a set of blue vials. One was empty while the other three remained.

Lyrium. Whatever this substance was, it was potent. Like a potion of swiftness, haste, strength, Ironshield, and mana all bottled up in one tiny vial. No wonder the Chantry kept a tight control over their supply.

I wasn’t too sure of the side-effects, and I could still feel the effects of it running through my system.

“Lorekeeper, any idea on how long the effects of this will last?”

**“Converting metrics… 30 minutes.”**

That set off another question.

“How long have we been down here?”

**“Since the moment we have begun our descent, approximately 2 hours, 25 minutes, and 37 seconds have passed.”**

If I remembered correctly, we were still on the second level.

“Can you show me the map again?”

**“Certainly.”**

The Lorekeeper vanished and was replaced with the blue outline of the entire complex. I examined it, and realized I wasn’t even halfway through. There wasn’t any time to spare.

First, however I needed new equipment. I gathered up my belongings as best I could, picked up the torch, and stepped out to the hallway.

***

The room where I was ambushed hadn’t changed. Pools of dried and wet blood. Cold human corpses along with the black husks of the creatures. The smell lingered, but I was used to it. Or at least keep it mentally at bay.

I laid my belongings on dry ground, and began rummaging through the slain expedition. I found a man that looked my size piled up against a corner. When I got close, I noticed the trail of blood slithering down the side of his face. Death by blunt force to the head. His breastplate however, was still intact.

I frowned on scavenging from the dead, not unless it was absolutely necessary. This was a necessary moment, so I unclipped the armor form the corpse. When I did, I realized that it was near the exact same make as the one that I tried on at Wade’s emporium. The man probably, got it as a free gift.

It was as good as the one that I tried on too. Strong but flexible.

With that taken care of, all I needed was a new travelsack. I went back through the bodies, hoping one of them had the sense to bring one for the expedition.

Leaning against a stone pillar, I found one lying face-up with something tied to its back.

When I stepped over, I noticed he wasn’t among those that I had seen on the first night of the expedition. His face still possessed the soft features of youth, not even old enough for his first mustache. A green recruit. It made sense the others would make him the packmule.

I shook my head. Just a boy, lured by the promise of riches and dead by happenstance.

I flipped him over, revealing a sack bound with two ropes around his shoulders as straps. It wasn’t much but it would do. I slipped the ropes, and unbound the top of the sack, removing the contents one by one.

There wasn’t anything too out of ordinary. A few spares clothes, most of which were too small for me. I had enough bandages so I left those on the floor. A couple of red healing poultices, similar to what I saw sold in the marketplace, I left those in the pouch. Next was a cloth bundle. I unfurled it, revealing a half loaf of bread. Without another thought I stuffed it down my throat. The bread was stale, nothing like what was served at Madame Lebois’, and the wretched smell in the air didn’t help make it more edible. However, I swallowed it down. I was light on food, and I was going to need all the energy I could get. Man as the saying goes, marches on his stomach.

The last set of contents were a sealed letter and a locket. I whipped out the letter, and noticed two words written below the wax seal.

_\- To Clarice_

Inside the locket was a young woman in Chantry garb.

It took a moment for it to register, but I pushed the thought away. It was not time to dwell on such matters.

However, I left the letter and locket in the sack.

With the remaining space, I shuffled over, stuffed my belongings into their new container, then slung the ropes over my shoulders. Not comfortable, but better than nothing.

I looked to the dark stretch of hallways and rooms beyond, then continued the descent, sword in one hand, torch in the other. 

***

The blade swept through the air, and put an end to the last of the creatures. It gurgled, then fell silent.

I stepped in in front of a set of double-doors, leading to my objective.

The trek had been one encounter after another with the creatures that roamed the halls. I learned that there were four types of them. Small ones, about the size of dwarves, that wielded axes and hammers. Skinny ones, that wielded daggers. Bulky ones, that used swords. And giant ones, that happened to use their fists and their horns.

I encountered none of the giants, except for the one on the second floor. Thankfully. I had enough on my plate with the rest of them.

I was on the third vial of lyrium. My mana band read 60%. The substance had no side-effects that I was aware of. Not even an inch of mana-fatigue or overdose, at least not so far. Good thing too, otherwise, I wasn’t sure if I would have made it any further.

There was one more left, sitting in a belt pouch. The last one that I drank would expire in about 15 minutes. Hopefully enough time to deal with whatever was in the next room, and begin making my way up the surface with the artifact.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I must warn you that levels of corruption are extremely high in the area that you are venturing into. I recommend caution before proceeding.”**

“Got it,” I said, then kicked the doors open.

It was dark inside, just like all the others.

I took a step inside, and taking a look above. Nothing hiding in the corners there. The creatures had a knack for overhead ambushes.

Every chamber and passageway thus far shared the same features. Old stone furnishings and dwarven architecture withering away with the passage of time to debris and then dust.

The light of the torch illuminated a room that defied my expectations.

There was a carpet, for instance. Plainly patterned and, despite the orange tint cast by the flame of the torch, I was certain it was some shade of red.

It stretched from the doorway to the end of the room. There were wooden tables and chairs scattered on either side, and at the end, was a stone block carved into something that resembled an altar.

I pulled out the roll of parchment with the description of the artifacts. I looked back through the room, and didn’t see anything resembling one.

Maybe it was hidden somewhere. Worst case scenario, it was long gone, and all my earlier efforts were futile. I erred on the side of optimism and began looking around the room.

Much to my surprise, the tables were made of wood. Not even a speck of dust atop the platforms. Someone was keeping this place well-kept, even though they weren’t present at the moment. I doubted it was any of the creatures that I encountered along the way. Everything about them so far did not lead me to believe they valued cleanliness.

I didn’t realize it at first but here I couldn’t smell a damn thing in the room. Not the vile odor of blood, rock, soil, or dust. Even stranger, I wasn’t bothered by the fact. Although, it felt like I should have. Every step I took echoed, despite there being no reason to. The fire of the torch seemed to wane and wax, with each blink of my eye.

The shadows seemed to be shift. Even the walls and the tables seemed to bend ever so slightly.

I had made a complete circle and found no artifact. Maybe if I did another turn…

One of the tables in the corner caught my eye. I didn’t recall it being slanted like that, with the platform being turned away from me. There was something was familiar about it.

I decided to investigate further, and as I stepped closer; the torch revealed a pair of wooden gears connected by a bar at the top edge of the table. A coil of rope looped around the center. My eyes darted to a pair of pliers on the ground. Something was wrong, everything here was just like that evening. A bead of sweat slithered down my head.

I didn’t want to see what was on that table, and yet I knew.

I turned my head away, and all the tables had changed to racks. Flashes of images. A red dress. Pale, unblinking eyes. The mask. And the screaming, oh the screaming. A low voice whispering.

_“It is as the Light commands…”_

I spun away, looking toward the altar, and realized something floating above the altar. It was a black mass, with even darker chains stretched across near every inch of its surface. I didn’t know how but knew that it was alive as it writhed and shook against the bindings.

The walls melted away to reveal a green mist. An outline peered out above. A solitary citadel, dark and morass. Something was there, something ancient.

The screams got louder and louder.

“Stop!”

I shot my hand out and the light pulsed out of my core. The flare blotted out all other colors, leaving nothing but white.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected high levels of mental stimulus. Are you well?”**

I blinked and found myself standing in front of the doorway. There were no screams, the torch had fallen on the floor, and my left hand was stretched ahead.

“I’m-I’m fine.”

I didn’t know what had happened. Whether it was a side-effect from the lyrium or if it was some spell or if it was just me finally going insane. Regardless, I picked up the torch, and entered the room.

It was empty, all save for a jar.

I took a look around just to be sure. I even called upon the light to my hand for better illumination.

Nothing.

I stepped forward and crouched before the artifact. It was small, about the size of my hand. There were symbols etched over the lid, ones written in no language that I was familiar with.

“Lorekeeper, do you detect anything strange about this object?”

**“Scanning… I have detected some type of arcane lattice around the object. The purpose, appears to be a container of some sort.”**

A magical container, shaped like a jar. I didn’t know what was in it, but that wasn’t any of my business. All that mattered was getting it back.

I picked it up, it was light and oddly warm to the touch, then slipped it into my bagpack. I was careful to wrap it among the cloth bandages, to prevent it from breaking on the return journey.

Before I left, I took one look back in the room. Still empty. No carpet, altars, floating castles, or tables.

I took a deep breath to clear my thoughts. It was all in the past. No reason to dredge up old memories.

My steps carried me away, but the echoes of the past lingered.

***

“By the Maker’s balls, Did the bastard actually do it?”

The voice drew up relief, because it meant I had reached the surface, and ire, because of who spoke it.

“Aye,” I said, grabbing the edge of the hole and pulling myself up into sunlight.

The sky was painted red like blood from the setting sun. I had enough of that color for a day, let alone a lifetime. There was the soft rustle of trees as a gale passed by, sending shivers across my body as it cut through the sweat that drenched my clothes. Discomforting, but relaxing. I closed my eyes for a moment as I took in the fresh air.

“Well what are you standing down there for! Come up.”

I opened my eyes to see Taoran peering towards me from the edge of the pit, one hand stretched in an invitation. My hand reached out, and he pulled me up.

“So,” he said. “How did it go?”

I shrugged. “A bit of trouble but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“You mean to tell me the darkspawn weren’t nothing but a bit of trouble?”

Darkspawn? _That’s_ what those things were?

Taoran was eying me with a mix of surprise and awe, then looked down at my new breastplate.

“You met the initial expedition I suppose?”

I nodded. “No survivors.”

“Well, that’s a shame. On the bright side though-”

“Did you retrieve the artifact?” another voice cut in from the side.

Deverra, with her two acquaintances, were behind us, their black cloaks flapping in the wind. They stood as resolute as statues and if one took a look at the faces behind the helmets, I was certain they were equally empty of expression. It was a bit jarring, the only time I felt this way was when I spoke with that tranquil fellow that ran the shop for the Chantry.

I unslung my travelsack, and clasped the jar out.

She stepped forward, one hand reaching to grab it, but I yanked it back. Her two guards took a step forward, and I reached for my sword in turn. Deverra raised a hand, and they halted.

“Now let’s not be too hasty,” Taoran said, stepping between us.

“We had an agreement,” I said, looking at Deverra.

I couldn’t see her expression through that mask of hers, but I could feel her eyes boring through mine.

“Of course.” She waved a hand forward.

One of her guards stepped out around the rock, then returned. Between his hands was a small chest. He laid it on the ground in front of us, then opened it to reveal hundreds of glittering silver coins.

Taoran whistled.

“There is enough there to compensate you as requested,” Deverra said. “We have proven true to our part of the bargain. Now we ask you hold true to yours.” Her hand reached out.

I nodded, then handed over the jar.

She inspected it, paying close attention to the symbols inscribed on the lid. Then she looked back at me.

“The Master will be very pleased with this. I believe this will further cement our mutually supportive agreement.” She turned her attention to Taoran. “More opportunities will be made available in the future.”

“Of course,” said Taoran. “The price was well worth it.”

I did not reply as I knelt and closed the chest.


	22. Questions

**_“That was my first encounter with the race of creatures known as the Darkspawn. The Chantry states they rose as a result of the “Second Sin”, although whether or not this lends more towards myth or truth remains uncertain. All I know is that they are the cause of great ill and destruction on this world, their influence shifting between a mere nuisance to a catastrophe._ **

**_I remain puzzled as to what happened in that final chamber where I found the artifact. At first, I thought it was a mere illusion spell designed to trap intruders. However, I can still recall everything that I saw, most notably that black citadel floating in the horizon. Whether it was indeed some illusion, or a side-effect of the substance known as lyrium, or simple battle-fatigue, remains indeterminate.”_ **

  * **_From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_**



The river of people split, giving me a wide berth, as they drifted down the steps leading up to the Chantry. There was a reason, but smell wasn’t why. I took a long wash in one of the rivers, immediately after concluding my business with Taoran’s employers. The scent from the foray into the Deep Roads still lingered, so I had taken a second wash in the tavern the night before and again during this morning, with some fat-cream mixture the locals considered soap.

The real reason was trifold. First, was my newly acquired breastplate, which had clearly identified me as not just a mercenary, but a Blackstone Irregular, who were rather well-regarded in this city as trained fighters.

Second, was the disheveled mass of hair that had grown out from my chin, below my nose, and past my ears, which had me looking a tad bit unhinged. The tight expression across my mouth, and the beads of sweat clinging to the hairs from the exertion of hauling a chest of silver coins did not help either.

And third was the sword on my belt. I caught one too many people staring at the jingling coins the moment I left, drawn to it like rats to some piper’s tune. The Lorekeeper had been warning me of threats every so odd moment since I began walking here. As far as I knew, the blade was the only thing keeping them at bay.

The surge of departing people lowered to a trickle as the last of the congregation finally emptied out of the building. I could have arrived earlier, but I was in no hurry to be part of a captive audience to another sermon. Today was to be business, first and foremost.

I skulked up the stairs toward the open doorway. An old man with white hair led by two women in plainclothes, were approaching my direction. They took one look at me, the fear plain on their faces, and hurried away sideways.

I shrugged and crossed from the stone steps and to the red carpet of the Chantry. It was empty here, a few sisters and brothers milling about. No templars in sight, thank the Light for that.

My eyes zeroed in on Sister Rivera, who was sitting by the same table leading up the stairs the last time I saw her. I jaunted over to her, coins clacking in the chest along the way.

The noise drew her attention, and she moved her eyes up to me from the parchment that she was writing on.

“Hello Sister Rivera, I’ve come to-“

“Oh hello!” she said then her expression shifted to puzzlement to horror as she pointed at my side. Not the one with the chest but the one with the sword.

The realization hit me at the same moment. Weapons weren’t allowed here. I also realized at that moment this fact had drawn every single eye in the Chantry towards me.

“Is that a sword?” Sister Rivera said. “Ser! You must-“

“Good Heavens what is this!”

The stern voice boomed through the halls, one used to enforcing discipline on wayward children. If there were people in the building who wasn’t aware of the commotion, then they certain were now.

The speaker of the voice was storming in our direction. A woman with red hair wearing a red and white garb embroidered with golden limes that set her apart as one of the Chantry Mothers. The wrinkles on her face had fixed themselves into a nasty scowl of which I was the sole recipient.

Sister Rivera, stepped away, dipped her head, and averted her gaze as if the approaching figure’s attention could shift to her at any moment.

The Mother crossed the distance between us in an instant. She stood in front of me, looking up with her hands on her hips.

“I am Mother Perpetua, and head of this Chantry. Weapons are not permitted on these grounds my good ser. I must ask you to leave.”

“Bu-.”

“What is going on here?” someone said.

I turned my head toward the voice, and saw a trio of templars rush toward us from one of the stairways. The sinking feeling in my gut grew deeper as I recognized Knight-Captain Nelson at their lead.

“You again?” he said, eyeing my up and down with a sneer.

“Knight-Captain Nelson,” said Mother Perpetua. “Thank heavens you are here. This man had brought a weapon into this place of worship. Please escort him off the Chantry premises.”

“Hold on I can exp-.”

“With pleasure Mother,” he bowed, his gaze darkening to a glare as it shifted back to me. “Men, take this vagrant outside.”

I could feel my blood pressure rising. I was irritated enough as it was from hauling around a chest of coins in the hot sun. I was about to mouth off when another person interrupted.

“Is there something going on?”

Everyone froze at the newcomer’s voice. Whoever just arrived, had more authority than anyone else here, judging by how the templars stood to attention and even Mother Perpetura went silent. It was also familiar, there was accent to it similar to Madame Lebois, but I knew I heard it before.

“Ah,” said Mother Perpetua, looking past me to the new arrival. Her voice was respectful but with a hint of condescension and mockery. “Mother Dorothea, we are just handling some internal affairs.”

“I can see that,” the newcomer said. I turned my head to see her stepping towards us. Mother Dorothea was the same as I remembered when I gave up the basket to the street urchins. Gray-haired, calm, collected, and with a permanent smile etched on her face.

“Why if it isn’t you, young man,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say so I just dipped my head in a bow.

“Templars,” Mother Perpetua said. “Escort this ruffian out immediately.”

The two men moved again, then stopped when Mother Dorothea moved between us.

“Now. Now,” she said. “Let us not act rashly, especially upon these hallowed grounds. Is there some cause for which this man is being driven out of these halls?”

“This ruffian has brought a weapon upon these grounds! Can you not see that?” said Mother Perpetua.

“Why yes I can.” Mother Dorothea then looked at the two armored men in front of her.

“As are the templars.”

She turned toward the statue that towered over the Chantry floor.

“And as is the statue of blessed Andraste. Weapons appear not be an issue.”

Mother Perpetua’s brow twitched then narrowed into a glare. “Mother Dorothea, I understand that you come from Orlais, but in Ferelden, there are a different set of customs that we must abide by.”

“How perplexing,” said Mother Dorothea. “I was under the impression that we all shared the same universal code espoused by Andraste. I did not know that Denerim strayed so far from the path. Grand Cleric Elemena would have much to explain to the Divine.”

Mother Perpetua’s glare vanished, replaced by shock. She proceeded to open her mouth as if to say something, then closed without uttering a word. Her lips tight in restraint.

“And as to the… object of this issue,” Mother Dorothea said, turning towards me. “I believe you have some reason as to why you are here? Perhaps related to that chest you hold?”

“Uh…yes,” I said, laying the chest on the floor. “I’m here to make a donation to the Chantry.”

I opened the chest, revealing the glimmering coins. Mother Perpetua, Sister Rivera, and Knight-Captain Rodrick’s eyes gaped at the sum.

“Why that looks to be quite the princely sum,” Mother Dorothea said.

“Yes,” I replied. “500 silvers. I am merely wishing to earn the honor of becoming a distinguished guest, and have the opportunity to look through the Chantry archives.”

“Is that so?” said Mother Dorothea, raising an eyebrow at Mother Perpetua. “I wasn’t aware that visitors needed to make such a donation to access the Chantry archives. Quite interesting, given the Divine ordained that all seeking knowledge shall be given it freely.”

Mother Perpetua said nothing, but her eyes were averted to the ground.

“It-Its nothing,” I said. “Regardless, I’d like to keep the donation. For the benefit of the Chantry.”

That was a lie. 500 silvers would have sent me a long way, but not if I earned the ire of the people running this place. Best to appease them. It wasn’t like I was hurting for more coin anyhow.

“Interesting,” Mother Dorothea said. “Mother Perpetua, would you accept this traveler’s magnanimous offering?”

“Uh-Yes!” she replied. “Of course! Ser Rodrick, would you be so kind to take the offering of this ruff-distinguished guest?”

“Oh, uh-certainly Mother,” Knight-Captain Rodrick said, bowing his head then turning towards his men. “Carry on men.”

The two figures looked at each other, and stepped forward. I took a step back as they closed the chest and carried it off.

“And Sister Rivera,” said Mother Perpetua. The young woman jolted, peeking her eyes at Mother Perpetua like a mouse caught between two cats.

“Please handle the administrative affairs for this contribution.”

“Y-Yes Mother!”

“Good,” she said. “I believe our affairs are concluded. Mother Dorothea, I believe it is time to run the charity.”

“Why yes,” Mother Dorothea said, and turned towards me. “May the Maker bless you on your pursuit traveler.”

She bowed once, and the two of them stepped away.

Sister Rivera walked up to me once they were out of earshot, taking a deep breath.

“Please come with me uh- Ser Eratus. I’ll get your papers ready.”

“Of course.”

***

_“And so Andraste, Daughter of Brona, was birthed amidst a straw hovel overlooking the oceanside and in the shadow of the ancient tower of the magisters…”_

I stopped after reading that verse, and scribbled it down on my journal.

The book continued on from there describing her childhood then onto postulations about her familial relationships. That was about where any relation to her home faded, so I closed the green leather-bound cover then stacked it on the pile of books and journals on the left side of the table.

When I was finished, I realized there were no more books to go through on my left. Those were all the ones that I could find on Andraste’s beginnings within the shelves.

I took the time to rub my eyes, a bad habit from years of reading in poor light, leaned back against the table, then stretch my arms up wide. When I was done, I peered back at the page on my journal, filled with line after line of passages from the books. Lines about who her parents were, their tribe, where the tribes were situated.

It turned out that Andraste was born when the city of Denerim was nothing but a series of huts and shacks situated around Fort Drakon, the massive citadel whose spiked and smooth architecture set it apart from any of the other structures in the city. Although it gave me a point of reference to look for her home, it also meant that the original hut was unlikely to exist. By my estimate, it was nearly a thousand years since the fabled events of her tale. A lot could change in that time period. As far as I knew, few to none of the old tribal dwellings that formed the basis of humankind on Azeroth stood. Either they were replaced over time such as in Lordearon and Stromgarde, or destroyed by war such as Alterac.

Flemeth’s words did seem to hint however that it still existed. I didn’t have a better idea so I figured I might as well try. My first intuition was to look for the actual location and see if anything remained.

The problem being that Denerim was a large city. I hadn’t ventured outside of the usual paths, mainly because of my disastrous initial attempts at navigating the city. The last thing I wanted to do was wander around blind, looking for landmarks that “might” still exist.

I stepped up to exercise the flow of blood through my limbs, and decided to distract myself by peering over the balcony.

There wasn’t much going on now that the congregation had concluded. However, on the balcony opposite mine, there were several sisters, wearing trim and plain red white gowns with the Chantry’s emblem following the chorus of Mother Perpetua. They were reciting a chant, a canticle.

“All men are the Work of our Maker’s Hands”

_“All men are the Work of our Maker’s Hands”_

“From the lowest slaves”

_“From the lowest slaves”_

“To those highest Kings”

_“To those highest Kings”_

“Those who bring harm”

_“Those who bring ham-_

“Stop. Stop. stop!” Mother Perpetua said while several of the sisters were trying to hold back giggles. “It is harm. Harm. Not ham.” She eyed one elderly sister who looked away in innocence.

“Now follow after me. Without provocation to the least of his children.”

_“Without provocation to the feast-“_

Several of the sisters broke out in laughter, even I chuckled under my breath.

“Sister Theohild! I demand you stop this instance!” The Mother glared at the elderly sister.

“Mother Perpetua, I am merely following your guidance,” she replied.

“I know you are doing this on purpose and I will not continue to stand while-“

There was a bell ringing in the distance.

“We shall reconvene after dinner. Sister Theohild, I will not tolerate any further grievances.”

“Yes, dear Mother.”

The fellowship of sisters stood up and walked away. I had to hold back my laughter. It reminded me of the past, days spent reciting verses while undergoing physical training in the Cathedral grounds. Mother Perpetua’s grouchy demeanor mirrored that of the Bishops and Priests.

Then my eyes noticed the appearance of a prim white skirt, standing beside me. I looked up to see the smiling face of Mother Dorothea.

“Good Evening,” she said, glimpsing at the stack of books on the table. “I see you have been busy since the incident today.”

“Ah-yes.”

I didn’t exactly know what the proper etiquette was here. My hands instinctively clapped together in a bow for prayer, because that was how we greeted archbishops, bishops, and other people of importance at the Church. I realized halfway however, that this wasn’t a bishop, this wasn’t the Church, and that I wasn’t in Azeroth. What resulted was that I did a half-bow while my hands were outstretched in a half-hearted attempt at a hug.

The gray-haired lady blinked in surprise, then brought her hand up to her mouth in a snicker. I froze, half from embarrassment and half from uncertainty at what to do next.

“Apologies,” she said. “I did not mean to startle.”

“It was nothing Mother Dorothea,” I replied, regaining my composure. “It has been rather quiet up here for some time. Wasn’t expecting a visitor.”

“Quite unfortunate,” she said. “I hope it doesn’t trouble you if you may give this old woman but a moment of your time?”

“No,” I said. “It is no issue at all.”

She walked over to the table, picking up the top book from the stack.

“Books after all serve as a window to the past. I feel much would be improved if we were aware of the folly of those that came before us”

“Yes,” I said, not exactly sure what she was up here for. Suspicion even. “I agree.”

Given that few from the Chantry visit the library, it is even rarer still to have someone outside of the order. May I know what brought you to this place?”

Now it seemed like she was the one suspicious of me. My mind worked quickly, like when I fumbled for excuses during the times I was discovered by a priest outside the Cathedral past curfew. 

“Andraste herself actually,” I said, technically it wasn’t a lie. “I’m not from Ferelden, and… actually I haven’t seen much of the Chantry where I grew up.”

“Really?” she said. “Not even a small hillside chapel?”

“Yes, uh… my parents were secluded farmers for the most part.”

“I see…I suppose there are places out there beyond the Chantry’s reach. It is quite the wide world after all.

Her voice was sincere, but something in the back of mind was telling me she thought I was hiding something, which I was, although she was willing to accept my story for now.

“Then it gladdens me that you have come up here out of your volition. Only a noble soul would come seeking Andraste without any additional encouragement.”

“Eh… noble seems a tad far-fetched.”

“Oh no, my good ser,” she said. “I believe it to be quite the apt description. It is why I intervened in the first place.”

“You know. I wanted to thank you for doing that. Sticking yourself out for me like that.”

“Again, not a problem at all. My colleagues, already have issue with my presence, but that is the reason for why I am here from Orlais.”

If I remembered correctly, Orlais was another country, just west of Ferelden. I didn’t know too much about it, but I was aware the two countries weren’t exactly on the friendliest terms.

“I hope you continue your actions, and wish you luck in what you are searching for.”

She dipped her head in preparation to depart, and I replied in kind.

“And for that matter, it is not customary to return a bow to a Chantry Mother,” she said with a smile before turning away and departing.

***

My encounter with Mother Dorothea lingered in my mind as I moved down the steps of the Chantry. I couldn’t help but shake off the feeling that I had just attracted another unwanted eye, whether it was for good or for worse.

Beyond that, in some bizzare way, I enjoyed the talk. It was then that I realized just how much I was longing for some genuine interaction. The Lorekeeper wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and if anything was the opposite.

Back home, not a day would have gone by without a quarrel breaking out between Alamere and Singlepipe, or Bluebeard harping advice, or Captain Falmore admonishing everyone. Another patrol, another mission, on and on the cycle went. Annoying at times, but now I missed it.

I entered the marketplace. With the red rays of the setting sun in the horizon, the area itself was less crowded. A few of the merchants were packing up their wares and dismantling tents in preparation to depart.

One stall drew my attention, so I wandered over for a closer look. Thankfully, the merchant was busy with another customer, which allowed me to peruse his wares without being harassed.

Most of the items on display looked like tools suited for kitchenware. Slabs of steel sharpened along a single edge and mounted on a wooden handle to form the shape of a knife. Wooden spoons and metal prongs. Pots and pans. Cauldrons.

However, what drew my eyes was a small sliver of space were items of more decorative value than mere utility. Necklaces. Bracelets. Nothing too fancy, judging by the lack of precious stones. The beads and frame appeared to be either from wood or common metal. All of them looked small enough to fit in a belt-pouch.

I had been so caught up in the current affairs that I hadn’t put much stock in what to do once I got back home. As I looked through the ornaments, I figured it would be nice to take back with me some memento of travels here. The story by far was far-fetched, so it would help to have something of this world to take back. Maybe as gifts.

Two people came up to mind. Aunt Tiana and Katrina. Aunt Tiana didn’t give a snoot about jewelry or anything related to decorations. Katrina cared a bit less but I did recall a day where she and Milly made crowns out of sticks and grass that they found in the forest, taking on the airs of Arathi tribal chieftans. She did start wearing jewelry, at least until financial issues with her family’s farm necessitated that all those luxuries went to settling debt. 

Before the chain of events occurred that led to my current situation, I was planning on stopping by Ironforge, and visit some of the dwarven jewel-crafters there. Purchase a necklace, not a ring for that would have been far too direct. Something that was enough to show I had her on my mind all these years.

“Hey!”

The suddenness of the voice made me jolt, but the familiarity of it put me at ease. I turned around to see a red-headed elf peering up with a basket full of vegetables.

“Fancy seeing you here Eratus,” she said with a broad smile. “I see you are looking through the wares again.”

“Oh, hello Shianni,” I said pursing the back of my head with one hand.

“You’re the only shem-I mean human to call me by name like that you know,” she said.

“Oh, sorry I didn-,”

“No. No. I meant that in a good way ha ha.” She peeked a glance at what I was looking at.

“Kitchenware?” she asked. “Didn’t think you were one to cook.”

“No ha ha,” I replied. “I was looking above.”

“Ah. Necklaces, bracelets. Didn’t take you for one to care about those sorts of things. Unless men wear it where you are from.”

“No. No. I was looking for something for someone special back home. I haven’t talked to her much, and I’m not good at looking for those sorts of things… Actually, would you mind helping me look?”

I didn’t know at first, but the radiance in her face seemed to dim ever so slightly when I said that.

“Well,” I said. “If you are busy that is alright. I don’t want to take you for granted.”

“No! No… It isn’t that. Nevermind,” she resumed smiling, a bit forced this time. “I’m sure we can find something here that she would like.”

She stepped ahead then stumbled. Before she could fall, I moved one hand around her arm to keep her balanced while the other reached to secure the basket.

“Are you… okay?” I asked.

“Oh. I-I’m fine! Nothing.”

I looked at her with skepticism as she steadied herself. Her face was flushed.

“Let-Let’s go take a look.”

The merchant, a fat man with a frilly mustache, finished exchanging coin with his customer and turned his attention toward us.

“Good afternoon! How may I help you?”

“Just taking a look for now,” I said.

“Go on. Go on!” he replied.

We took a closer look at the array of ornaments along the bench. Now that I was up close, it was easy to tell the craftsmanship that had gone into the woodwork. The bracelets and necklaces were carved into intricate animal and plant shapes. Not identical, but with a fantastical element that gave them a sense of originality.

“So… I don’t mean to pry,” said Shianni. “But who is this woman that you are buying this for?”

“I’ve known her for a long time. We grew up together, although we’ve been separated for several years, she hadn’t left my thoughts. I felt like I should get her something nice once I return.”

“Oh… She sounds special.”

“She is. Never met or known a woman like her before.”

“Just curious but what sets her apart?”

“Well…”

I paused, thinking about it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think of anything but that I was trying to get the right words out.

“She’s strong, but not physically. I think brave is a better word. Never strayed from her path, even when we were children. Gave the adults a headache ha ha. Smart too. Managed her family’s farm before we were even of age, did a damn good job of it too. Above all though, she has a good sense of right and wrong.”

Speaking of which, a necklace caught my eye. It had a wooden wolf carved into a small block of wood as the main ornament, surrounded by blocks shaped in the various phases of the moon. I remembered Katrina wanted to have a direwolf for a pet. Audacious as it was back then as it is now, I figured this would be a reasonable compromise.

“What do you think?” I asked Shianni.

“Hm? Oh. I think it would be a wonderful gift. Quality seems good.”

She didn’t have the same attentive look on her face the last time she sorted and picked out supplies for me, but I took her word for granted. She hadn’t let me down so far.

We haggled a bit with the merchant on price and left with the necklace in a belt-pouch.

“I-I should get going,” Shianni said, looking down on the ground. “It’s going to be late soon. It was nice seeing you again though!”

She scrambled away before I got a chance to say good-bye. I had a feeling I said something wrong in the midst of the conversation, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint it.

There was still some light left in the sky so I decided to make my round over to the Blackstone Irregulars. It was going to take some time deciphering all the information that I got collected and, in the meantime, I was going to need some more coin after donating most of it to the Chantry. Maybe a day’s effort with Madame Lebois. My mouth watered at the very smell of the bread.

I arrived at the scene, and had just gotten the job secured when I felt a hand clap down on my shoulder.

“Thought I might find you here.”

I turned to see the face of Taoran Hawkwind. I quirked a fake smile.

“Well you found me. What do you need?”

“Now is that any way you should be talking? You know, for a new member, you have quite the mouth.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence linger between us.

“That was just in jest,” Taoran laughed taking his hand off my shoulder. “It is good to see that you wearing something befitting of the guild.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to let it go to waste, especially now that there is nobody to return it to.”

“Indeed… Speaking of that, there is an opportunity out there that I was wondering if you wanted in-“

“No.”

Taoran blinked, like he couldn’t believe the rejection.

“Why… you can’t be serious. Plenty of coin in it-“

“No,” I said, emphasizing the finality of the word. Something about the whole affair rubbed me the wrong way and I didn’t want anything more to do with it, outside of necessity.

Taoran sighed and shook his head. “Very well then. But do be so kind to let me be…”

“Taoran!” a gruff voice said. I could hear the clicking of leather soles on the pebblestones behind me. I turned to see a young man, who was already my height, dressed in a gold tunic embroidered with red stripes. Vaughn Kendells if my memory was correct. He brushed me aside as he walked over to his friend.

Behind him were four others. The first was a figure I would have recognized anywhere from the arrogant gait of her walk and posture. Habren Hyland, dressed in a red and gold dress, that complemented Vaughn’s, with frills fluffing from her wrist cuffs. She was looking out into the distance, her face set in disinterest and apathy. Trailing her, was her retainer, who looked as tired as I remembered her, along with two of Vaughn’s lackeys, who were eyeing me with contempt.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and took a few steps back to let the little lord talk to his friend. I kept my face turned away to give them privacy, but was watching the interaction from the corner of my eyes.

“Vaughn!” Taoran said, shaking his hand. “What brings you out here at this time of the day?”

“Oh I just wanted to show my lady the rest of the city,” Vaughn said, then turned his head.   
Dear Habren?”

She perked her head to Vaughn, putting up a smile that concealed the displeasure reflected in her eyes.

“Yes?” she said, in a quiet voice that did not match the haughty tone I recalled her using at Madame Lebois.

“I would like to introduce you to one of my good friends,” Vaughn said, “Taoran Hawkwind. Son of Raelnor Hawkwind who commands the Blackstone Irregulars.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she curtsied.

“And I can say the same my lady,” he replied.

It was just a moment, but I could almost feel a palpable shift in the air between them. As if there was something, whether it was in their eyes or their postures, that told me there was more to this than what was immediately apparent.

“I heard from my father that the Blackstone Irregulars were instrumental and heroic in their defense of Ferelden,” she said.

“I am honored that my guild has received such praise from an Arl,” Taoran replied. “I can only hope to live up to my father’s legacy.”

“On that,” she said. “I have little doubt.”

Her smile this time was different than the one that she gave Vaughn. More sincere, less superficial.

“Well,” Vaughn interrupted. “We best get going. I want to take the Lady to explore the rest of the Lake. Have a wonderful day old chap.”

The procession left, but Hybran and Taoran’s gaze lingered upon each other until distance forced them to break contact. I watched the entire scene, and couldn’t help it as a corner of lip quirked up in amusement.

“She is a beauty I’ll give you that,” I said.

“Yes… Yes, she certainly is.”

“Well, I guess that is it then. Can’t do much besides look from afar with girls like her. We’re of a different kind altogether. Poor boys shouldn’t be chasing after rich girls as they say.”

Taoran said nothing, but his expression shifted, from bliss to darkness. “No… No, they should not.”

***

The sky was dark and the candlelights of the tavern were within sight. After all the efforts of this day and yesterday, all I wanted to do was relax, enjoy a good beer, and stuff my stomach with some plain stew. The monumental efforts ahead of me, involving scouring most of Denerim to find a potentially non-existent house was going to require my utmost focus. I was going to need all the rest that I could get.

I was thankful, that I was no longer lugging the chest around. The Lorekeeper hadn’t piped up about any threats, and I didn’t have to worry about being ambushed by a pack of thieves.

There were probably six houses separating the distance between me and the tavern when a lone figure stepped out of one of the alleyways.

I thought it was another passerby, judging by the fact that there was nothing sudden about the movement and the Lorekeeper didn’t alert me. However, as I continued walking along, it stopped between the inn and I.

It was lean and slender, holding a bundle of things in one hand. Its face was obscured by a hood, which it lowered to reveal an elven face, the same one belonging to the elf I had treated a week ago.

I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what she wanted, or what she was doing here. After I returned her daggers, I figured our affairs were done and she would have gone off to who-knows-where.

“What do you want,” I asked.

She said nothing, standing as still as a statue.

My feelings moved from confusion to weariness and to suspicion. Most of the elves here hadn’t been so kind. Regardless of their treatment at the hands of men on this world, my feelings of sympathy were rather marred by past experiences.

“If you have nothing to say then get out of the way,” I said and moved to step around her. I kept my right hand close to the hilt of my sword in case she tried to do anything funny.

“Wait,” she said. I stopped.

She stepped towards me, then offered the bundle that she was holding in her hand.

With one eye raised, I took it with my left hand. I recoiled a bit from the stench, like dried blood, sweat, and other bodily excrements. That was when I realized it was the blanket that she had ran off during her rather speedy departure.

I looked at her with one eye raised,” I uh… appreciate it but you didn’t have to return this.”

“I know,” she said, biting her lips. “I just-I just wanted to apologize. You didn’t have to help me and uh- I may have acted a bit rash.”

Well that was a first, and the last thing that I was expecting. Her quivering voice, was enough to tell me that her words were sincere. I opened my mouth to reply, when I heard a growling noise. At first, I thought it was some wild critter, then I realized it had come from her, or rather, her stomach.

I laughed, for the first time in quite a while, I laughed. She dipped her head down and crossed her arms around her waist. If I could see her face, it was no doubt blushing in embarrassment.

It was also an opportunity. A good one to get to know more about this city from a local.

“Say,” I said. “Sounds like you haven’t eaten in some time. How about you join me for dinner.”


	23. Chapter 23- Discussion

**_“I gained an appreciation for well-built boots that day.”_**

  * _From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_



It was your average night in the tavern, at least based on my impressions from the month or so that I was here. The floor was scattered with tables and benches full of laborers and travelers cloistered in their own self-contained castles. There were no bards today, but the laughter and talk of the people alongside the knocks and clatters of beer mugs, plates, and wooden utensils was a music of its own. Occasionally, some drunk denizen would yell or cheer, interrupting the tempo before it ebbed back to equilibrium.

I was seated at a small table, tucked in a corner. If the other groups were castles then I was the equivalent of a frontier outpost. There but not worth a second look. It even had concealment, in the form of a large wooden pillar that kept it out of sight from the bar and its snooping innkeeper. It was my usual haunt. I’d be eating alone, but tonight I had a guest, who was stuffing her mouth with as much stew as possible.

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, I must strongly object to the presence of this organism.”**

Make that two. Since we entered the inn, the Lorekeeper had been speaking as quickly and as often as the elf across the table was eating. I covered my mouth as I whispered.

“Just relax. Besides, she might know something that could help.”

**“I believe there are plenty of local organisms that can provide the requisite information. This one however, has demonstrated itself to be a provable threat.”**

I didn’t point out you couldn’t go around asking random people for help like some quest from a tale. That and there were reasons I couldn’t ask the people that I did know. Madame Lebois was a foreigner, like me. I had no desire to indebt myself to Taoran. The Chantry was not an option, nobody seemed to care there, and I wasn’t going to risk exposing myself to the templars. Shianni had potential, but I didn’t want to trouble her with it. I felt like there was something sour in our last encounter, and she probably had enough issues without adding mine on top of it.

The elf in front of me. Well, she seemed to know her way around the city well-enough. Plus, she owed me one.

**“My analysis of her behavior suggests that she will be of limited use to our endeavors, if not outright harmful. I do not find this level of risk acceptable.”**

And that was the crux. My last few brushes with death had left the Lorekeeper irate, and sensitive to any future encounters.

“Well… she did apologize.”

She scraped out the last bit of the gray stew from the bowl, shoved it in her mouth, and without skipping a beat, set it off with a clatter and began working on her fourth portion.

For someone that small, I did not expect her appetite to be that big. My own bowl was still half-full.

She had the same picturesque face I had in mind from Alamere’s musings and the majority of human literature. The same v-shaped face and symmetrical eyes that teetered the line between cute and sensual. However, that was about it. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun that stuck out in odd angles. She smelled like the city in mid-day, which was not a compliment. The light of the tavern revealed dirt stains on her black clothes. If I could summarize it, it would be a discreet lack of elegance that characterized elven women.

She licked a bit of stew off her finger when another hand placed a mug of beer on the table. I looked up to see the fat innkeeper peering at me.

“Here you go.” He dropped it off and turning toward the elf. “This one’s got an appetite eh? Didn’t think I’d see her so soon after she left like that.”

She didn’t care and continued to slob away.

“None of your business.” I flicked a copper coin which he caught in his palm.

“Everything that happens here is my business,” he said and walked away.

She emptied the bowl, in half the time that it took to finish the last. I raised the mug to my mouth when her face twisted as she strained to swallow down the mass of food.

“Easy,” I handed her my beer. “Careful not to choke.”

She grabbed the mug, taking deluges of the brown liquid down her throat, and emptying it out in a few heartbeats. She slammed it down on the table then belched, driving another nail through my porcelain image of elven women.

“Thanks,” she said, leaning back and sighing up at the ceiling.

“Well, you’re welcome.” I turned the spoon in my bowl of stew, moving a block that was either a potato or carrot in the gray goop.

“Haven’t eaten that well for some time.” She stretched out her arms. “Bloody starving for days.”

“Really?” I ate a spoonful of stew, swallowing the bland mass with the least amount of chewing required. “Didn’t you have all that coin with you the day you left?”

“Doesn’t go a long way.” She straightened back up, sweeping away a strand of hair that fell over her eyes. “Not when you are a female elf running around in this city with nothing but a blanket on. Spent half the nights keeping on eye out for brigands while the rest of it went to buying clothes.”

She pulled at the fabric of her tunic. “Stuff isn’t cheap. Thanks for tearing up all my old clothes up by the way.”

“I hope you remember at the time it was your clothes or your life.” I thought about all the blood that was spilled on the initial frantic run to the inn.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No offense taken.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Mother always said I don’t exactly have a way with words. She didn’t appreciate it when I said I learned it from her.”

I replied by nodding.

“Uh… what was your name again? I asked. “Tabris?”

“Tabris is my family’s name.” She whipped out a dagger, and began cleaning out her fingernails with the tip. “You can call me Kallian.”

“Kallian eh,” I said. “You’re pretty handy with that knife. Who taught you?”

“My mother did.” She sighed, flicking fingernail rubbish off the dagger.

“Must’ve been quite the person,” I said.

Kallian scoffed. “I’m sure she thinks the same way. Father always did tell me that I take after her more than him. Not sure why he married her. Probably why she never let off on me. Bless the old hag.”

“I see. Are they still around?”

“They are.” She flicked off the small pile of rubbish that accrued on the tip of the blade. “Back in the alienage.”

“And… they approve of what you are doing?”

“Nope. Probably don’t care either. Either way I don’t intend on being here for long.”

“Why are you working for the mercenaries then?”

“Temporary. I’m just looking to book a way out of the city as soon as possible. Fastest way for me is bloodwork, so long as nobody suspects I’m an elf.”

She flicked one hand over her ear, as her eyes shifted from her fingertips to me.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… Did you tell anyone?”

“No. And I have no intention to.”

“Well that’s terrific. Guess that means I can go back to fighting at the pits again. I thought you ratted out my identity to all the others.”

“I certainly wouldn’t.” I leaned forward. “I’m not from Ferelden, and I’m looking to get out as soon as possible. Speaking of which. How well do you know your way around this city?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life and I know every nook and cranny,” she said. “Why? Looking for someone? Lost love? Revenge?”

“No,” I said. “Just a place. I have a bunch of descriptions but nothing else. Can you help me find them?”

“Depends,” she said. “There coin to it?”

“I just bought you dinner.”

“Well that was more of a gift. Freely given, freely taken.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but she started snickering.

“Relax,” she said. “I swear you are strung up higher than a lute. You helped me out in a rough spot so I’ll be helping you. You aren’t too bad for a shem.”

I leaned back. “Appreciate it.”

“What are you looking for anyway?”

“Andraste’s home,” I said.

Kallian snorted. “Really? The bloody prophet Andraste?”

“The very same,” I said.

“Why don’t you ask the folks at the Chantry about that?”

“Already tried. They don’t seem to care much.”

“Interesting,” said Kallian. “I’ve heard of stranger things but whatever. I’ll help you. No guarantees though.”

“Glad we are on the same page then.”

I slid away from the table and stood up.

“Well now that this is done. I need to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Before I could leave, she tugged at the cuff of cloth around my wrist.

“Sorry, but mind if I ask another favor?”

***

The room was dark, and all the exhaustive efforts from the day’s prior would have ensured I passed to sleep in moments. Instead about an hour passed and I lay on the straw bed, my eyes not open but not quite closed either.

There was a low wheeze that rumbled from the comatose figure on the floor, followed by a long snort. If I knew Kallian was a snorer I would have just left her to figure out her own living quarters. She was quiet the last time I brought her here, albeit close to death.

However, what was done was done. I wasn’t going to kick her out now, and resolved myself to sleep. The noise of her breaths began to meld into the background. I could feel myself drifting off into oblivion…

**“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I must question the wisdom in permitting this organism free reign around us while you are defenseless.”**

The voice wrenched me back to the waking world. I sucked air in and breathed it back out.

“You know,” I mouthed. “You have the worse timing possible.”

**“Understood. However, this organism in particular has caused physical harm to you before. I recommend precaution.”**

“I know.” I grabbed the sheath of my blade, which was tucked into my shoulder. “I have precautions. Just alert me if she causes any trouble. In the meantime, I need sleep, so no more issues.”

**“Understood.”**

I sighed as Kallian’s snoring drifted out of the background and into the forefront of my mind. I took a peek at my new roommate.

The moonlight streamed down on her sprawled body over the floor. Her arms and legs were stretched out, covering most of the floor. Her mouth gaped open with a bit of drool gleaming from its edge. 

I had to stifle a laugh. It took me back to my first assignment. Watching a bunch of orphans in a chapel outside of Alterac City. Simpler times.

I turned my head and waited until sleep overcame me.

***

“You mentioned it was overlooking a cliff, right!?” Kallian yelled from the top of the stairs.

“Yes!” I took another step up the stone staircase, sweat gleaming down my face. “My notes say it was facing the morning sun over the ocean, where water met rock in a spray of white. The sun drifted from the water to the tower on the opposite end.”

“Then this is probably it.” She turned, peering in the opposite direction. “Sun rises from the ocean. Tower is Fort Drakon. A cliffside between the two. This is the only place that fits in the entire city.”

I was also a bit peeved that it also happened to take us from morning to afternoon to get here, walking across winding pathways and narrow alleys. Kallian navigated with ease, where I most certainly would have gotten lost.

I lurched up the final step, and was greeted by a cool breeze and the blinding light of the afternoon sun. The air smelled of seawater. I squinted, raising my hand until my vision adjusted to normal.

We were on a strip of land that stretched to the mountains on the right, and to a drop to the city docks on the left. Below, I could hear oceanwater crashed into the cliffside at regular intervals. The ground here was a mix of dirt and patches of paved stones that probably covered the entire area at one point in the distant past. As if to emphasize the withering effects of time, entire chunks of the floor were missing along the pathway, gone to the seafoam below.

As far as the eye could see, there were no houses or anything that resembled a place of residence here.

“All I see is a bunch of old bricks and dirt,” said Kallian. “You sure this is what we are looking for?”

“Probably not.” I furled out my journal to the clues that I wrote down from my research. “But I still have about five other places on the list.”

“Best start looking at those then.” She dusted off a flat boulder and took a seat. “Doesn’t look like whatever you are looking for is out here.”

“The next place is… where the mountains, the plains, and the flats connect.”

“Outside the city gates.” She removed a shoe, easing out her foot. “Area used to be called the trifold, used to be where a lot of traders set up camp, at least until every poor ninny in the Bannorn set up camp there.”

I was also perfectly aware that this was about a two-hour trek through the city, and my feet curled up at the thought.

“Why is that the case?” I asked, thinking back to what I heard on the road on my initial trip to Denerim. “Something to do with the war with Orlais? Salting the farmlands or what not?”

“Probably.” She slipped her other shoe off and massaged the foot. “You don’t want to be bring up Orlais around anyone from Ferelden. All happened before my time but I know there is no love lost between the two folks, not before, not during, and not after the war. Funny when I think about it. You shems spend as much time hating each other as much as you hate the elvhen.”

“Yes… that is quite the shame.”

“Anyway, ready to be off?”

“Let’s… take a breather first,” I said, thinking of the extra blisters added to my foot that were starting to flare.

“Suits me.” She leaned back against the rubble.

We enjoyed the weather. It was peaceful here. The ocean air soothed my skin, and the only noise was the clockwork sound of crashing waves with the occasional caw from a passing gull.

“I’ve also been meaning to ask,” Kallian said. “Where’d you get that sword?”

“This?” I raised the sheath. “Got it from an old friend of mine.”

“Mind if I take a look?” she asked.

I hesitated, and decided there wasn’t much risk for harm. I could feel the Lorekeeper’s disapproval but ignored it and tossed the sheath toward her.

She caught it, drawing it out. The silver-blue mithril blade shone in the light of the sun.

“Whoa, it is almost as light as wood. I knew there was something special when you drew it that night. This can’t be steel, what is it made out of?”

“No idea,” I lied. “All I know is that it is dwarven make.”

“Haven’t seen anything like this before.” She fingered the edge. “Ow!”

Her hand flinched away, a line of red dripping from her thumb.

“Careful,” I said.

“Damn sharp,” She sucked her injured digit. “How often do you work a whetstone on it?”

“Never had to,” I said. It was one of the notorious secrets of mithril working. Once the metal was refined and took shape, it would only warp under the most extreme temperatures. The ease of maintenance and expensive costs was why it was an officer’s weapon.

“Really?” She flipped the blade, looking for any sign of wear and tear and finding none. Her gaze moved toward the bulge in the hilt, which was covered in a cloth bandage. “What’s under the wrap?”

“Feel free to take a look,” I said.

She undid the bandage, revealing a pattern of blue and yellow marks around the golden face of the Lion of Stormwind.

“Pretty. Only seen weapons like these on human nobles. Is your friend one?”

I could feel Captain Falmore snorting at that comment.

“No.”

“This thing is special. Must be a good friend to let you borrow something like this.”

“He is. I’ve been hoping to hand it back to him.”

“He still around?”

“Yes. Not here though. Somewhere far away.”

“Figures. I’m guessing you’ll go back when you find whatever you are looking for.”

I nodded.

Kallian put the blade back in the sheath and tossed it back to me.

“Can’t blame you, Denerim is a shithole,” she said, leaning back against the rubble.

“What about your daggers?” I asked. “They looked pretty special as well.”

“These?” She whipped them out. “It’s a family heirloom. Blade has been done and redone countless times but the hilt goes back all the way till Arlathan, at least that’s the story I was told.”

“Arlathan?”

“Old Elvhen city, way back when.” She flicked her dagger again. “Nothing but ruins now. Don’t really care.”

I made a mental note of that to write down in my journal.

“Sounds like a tale,” I said.

“It is, nothing worth remembering though. The past is the past.”

***

We arrived outside the city gates and explored the vagrant encampment.

I didn’t notice it at first, but it had gotten noticeably smaller. There were less tents around, and from what I could see, people were actually packing up and leaving.

“Is it just me, or are there a lot less of them out here than before?” I said.

“No,” said Kallian. “People are in a panic and are leaving. Folk have been disappearing in droves the last few nights. None of the local guards care a wit about it, and it has gotten to the point that it isn’t worth starving if you disappear to Maker knows where.”

“You stayed out here?” I said.

“Not much of choice,” she replied. “Usually, safer outside the city than in. I thought they were rumors until I started noticing people vanish the next morning.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“Word on the street was slavers. Who knows though?”

I said nothing, looking at the empty tent stacks whistling with the wind. Most of the usable goods were taken, but scraps of old cloth and garbage remained. The sun was getting low, and soon darkness would fall over the city.

“There is nothing out here,” I said. “Let’s head back.”


	24. Chapter 24- Pleasantries and Problems

**_“Many in the city are left to the mercy of unseen assailants and thugs.”_**

  * _From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood_



I stepped to the outskirts of the market with my two latest purchases. A leather-bound bag-pack slung around my shoulders and the cloth bandages packed inside it.

The bagpack bordered somewhere between necessity and luxury. The rope straps from the one I looted off the Deep Roads left uncomfortable red marks along my shoulders. The bandages were strictly necessity. I had exhausted the last bits of my last set padding the blisters on my feet. The venture into the Deep Roads with Taoran, and all the walking I did with Kallian in the last few days took a steep toll. One that my feet reminded me of with a jolt of pain from each sobering step.

At least I wouldn’t have to worry about doing the same to my shoulders. A few more days of lugging the old sack around would have left them in the same sorry state.

The old sack was sitting in my room, and I remembered that in the bottom of it was a letter addressed to a Sister Cecilia in the Chantry. I didn’t know what sort of relationship the dead kid had with her, but she probably deserved to know what happened. I made a mental note to deliver it the next time I had reason to go to the Chantry.

Madame Lebois’ bakery was my next destination. I was actually looking forward to it. It wasn’t bad coin, and if I was honest, I did enjoy the work.

A caravan of laborers with stacks of boxes on their backs forced people aside. I looped in behind them, letting them pave the way ahead and out.

Before I reached one of the exit roads, my ears were drawn toward the clings and clangs coming from the north. My eyes soon followed toward a familiar mass of tents, open furnaces, and soot-covered buildings belching smoke.

The blacksmith quarters were the same as I recalled it. Men and the occasional woman working out in the open, hammering metal ingots into useful tools. I had entertained being a blacksmith a few years back. All it looked like was smashing things with a hammer, which wasn’t a far cry from what I did in the last four years. A dream that was dashed when Bluebeard told me about the whole process of becoming one.

Like how herbalists needed to know the ins and outs of every single plant, to include where they grew and when it was time to harvest them, a smith needed to know the ins and outs of every ore, every ingot, along with the tools and procedures to shape it. Becoming an apprentice took 10 years of practice and study. Another 10 years to becoming an amateur journeyman, another 10 years to be considered an expert, and another 10 to be an artisan at which point I could make a living off the work. The sheer time commitment was why it was so rare to see human blacksmiths.

That same time commitment also made me question the quality of the goods made here, but I couldn’t be too picky. It wasn’t like I was going to be facing creatures on Azeroth. The darkspawn I met in the Deep Roads came close, but I doubt that was going to be the norm going ahead. I was quite intent to avoid putting myself in danger whenever possible. If only to keep the Lorekeeper from being a bit less twitchy.

I had some spare coin and I could always use some extra padding so I made up my mind and pulled away to a familiar soot covered brick building.

I opened the door and a burst of heat billowed past my face, smelling strongly of ash and metal. The air inside was sizzling, giving everything an odd distortion like the horizon in the Badlands when the afternoon sun drew down with its full fury.

“Greetings!” a voice said. “Welcome to-oh… Another Blackstone Irregular…”

Across from me, was Wade’s assistant, Herren, wearing a simple green tunic. How anyone could work or talk or sell goods in the sweltering heart was beyond me. Across from him was a brown counter, kept clean of the soot that had soaked into everything else inside.

His eyes brightened up however, when he recognized his latest customer.

“Oh! Why if it isn’t you. Eratus right?”

“Herren.” I tried to keep my words short to avoid breathing in the fumes and coughing. “Good to see you again.”

“Don’t mind whatever I said earlier.” He stepped forward from behind the counter. “I always respect a man that has his eye towards a fair trade.”

We shook hands.

“Come in. Come in.” He gestured me inside. “What can we do for you?”

We stepped to the center of the building. The room wasn’t as brightly lit as last time, with the only light streaming from the few windows around the walls. The furnace was out, and in the absence of its glow, everything, from the tools littered about to the anvils, was left dark and gray.

“Is Wade around?” I asked.

“Master Wade is… currently outside the city.” Herren scratched the back of his head. “Visiting one of the farms.”

“Oh, didn’t take him to be a farmer.”

“No, he isn’t.” Herren shook his head. “The master is always looking to push the boundaries of his craft, always on the hunt for some single ingredient or material to hone his next endeavor. Unfortunately, he tends to be a bit impulsive about such matters, and once a thought enters his mind, he remains attached to it with complete conviction. In this case, it is pigshit.”

“Pigshit?”

“Yes… pigshit. He believes it might strengthen metal. Something to do with bonding or such. I certainly intend to not be here while he figures that out.”

“That… makes sense,” I said. I had a feeling they weren’t going to have very many customers while it was taking place.

“However, I do worry and hope he returns soon. There are rumors abound of people disappearing throughout the city.”

“I heard of that,” I said. “A lot of the vagrant camps outside have cleared out as well. Do you think they are connected?”

“Who knows? But nobody cares about those ruffians. In fact, I thank the Maker their lot is gone. Anyhow, what would you be looking for? I see that you have already garnered a new suit of armor.”

“Yes… I scavenged it off a corpse.”

“Ah… Ghastly business, mercenary work. Still, what can I say. Where there is a demand for swords, there is a demand for someone to hold them.”

“Unfortunate indeed. I was just looking to peruse through some of your wares. Just wanted to take a look.”

“Hm…” He brought a hand to his chin. “We haven’t had a customer come in yet without a specific requisition. However... Would you mind following me?”

He led me to a trapdoor in the corner of the room, and opened the iron lock that bound it. The wooden platform opened, sending dust spewing everywhere.

There was a set of stairs leading down and a torch hoisted against the stone wall. Wade lit the torch and led me forward.

By the time we reached the floor, I noticed glints in the darkness reflecting back the light from the torch. As we stepped closer, I realized the glints was from metal. Specifically, the metal of piles of armor and weapons, stacked on top of each other. A hill of tools sloping from the ground to the top of the room.

“You see,” said Herren. “Master Wade leaves a lot of waste in his quest for perfection. He discards that which he deems less than perfect, but I find it far too much of a waste to throw out perfectly good pieces of equipment.”

“So this.” He gestured at the trove. “Is where they end up. Master Wade mainly works on commission so I haven’t found anyone to buy it. At least not yet.”

I perused through the mound. Plate helms, some with visors, others with static openings. Breastplates and undergarment chainmail vests of all sizes and fits. Vambraces, leather and metal. Axes, swords, and daggers. All sheathed of course. My eyes wandered over to a few of the single-handed warhammers.

I wasn’t a big judge on quality, mostly I trusted whatever I was issued. However, the pieces that I saw here were looked to be of fairly good design.

“I think I could make use of a few things here.”

“Perfect!” said Herren. “For the right price of course.”

***

Flour fluffed out in a spray of white dust as I peppered it over the lump of dough. I held my breath in. It was not good to sneeze where I was working.

Once it settled, my hands moved in to knead the dough. First out then back in. A bit of stretching and a few folds to add texture to the final product. It was a rote and exact process with little margin for error. A few twists and turns and I slapped the finished mound next to the others on the tray.

“You are really quite good at this!”

Madame Lebois appeared on my right, wearing a stained white apron over a blue dress. Her blonde locks were tied back into a bun, covered by a white cloth. She picked up and inspected one of the pieces of dough on the palm of her hand.

“Ah, I used to help my Aunt with something similar,” I said, while my hands moved to get another mound of dough ready. “Looks like some of the skills carried over.”

It was true. Kneading and preparing dough was not all too dissimilar to preparing herbs. Each required an exact precision with one’s hands, and was heavily involved with the right timing.

“Hm… I think you are right.” Madame Lebois plopped the dough back on the tray. “I wasn’t expecting too much but these will come out good enough to sell.”

She went back to tending her customers. I couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy from those few words of praise. Life became just a bit brighter and a smile quirked around my lips.

The following hours passed in a blur. I worked the back of the bakery in clockwork fashion, mixing up ingredients into dough, working the dough, letting it sit on a tray to fluff up, moving it into the oven, and taking it out after the right amount of time had passed. Madame Lebois would move in and out, taking finished products to replenish stocks while working high-end chit-chat with her customers.

The only distraction was her son. Every now and then little Louis would peek his head out from the stairs leading to the second floor, staring at me with big blue eyes. When I caught him looking, I twisted my face into some silly expression which caught a giggle out of him.

It was a good time while it lasted, at least compared to any other time I had been on this light-forsaken world besides being asleep. I felt it coming to an end as the sun drooped low over the buildings and it came to a close once the doorbell ringed as the last customer of the day left the store.

At that, I took a seat on a stool by the furnace, wiping sweat off my brow with a rag.

“Today was far busier than I expected.” Madame Lebois sighed, stepping into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “I don’t think it would have gone so well without your help. For that you have my thanks.”

“Pleasures all mine,” I said, looping the rag over my shoulder. I stared at my hands, dusted white from the flour. My shoulders and back ached but it was a worthwhile pain. “It is just a nice change of pace to do an honest day’s work.”

“True to that.” She moved over to one of the counters, one not full of bread-making materials and tools but with cups and plates that seemed more decorative in nature. “It appears there is still some light in the day. Would you mind joining me for a cup of tea?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” I said. After all, it wasn’t like I was in any rush.

“Splendid! Just one moment while I have everything set-up.”

I watched as she moved in steady precision and grace. She used a metal bucket to scoop out fresh water from a barrel and shoved into the furnace with one of the wooden spatulas used for bread trays. While the water worked its way to a broil, she took out pale while cups, saucers, spoons, and a pot out of the drawer and arranged them on a silver plate. Once the water began to steam, she took it out, pouring it into a metal teapot. I got the odd mesmerizing feeling that I was watching a rare display etiquette, like the ceremonies held at the Chantry.

With the preparations complete, she moved over and placed the set on one of the empty kitchen tables. She gestured for me to take a seat opposite her.

I stood up and took a seat. Up close, I could see the decorative milky blue swirls etched onto the cups. A few other plates were set aside with buttered bread and pastries.

“Sorry.” She took a napkin set and laid it over her lap. “I unfortunately do not have much of a collection. Tea is hard to come by this far from Orlais.”

“Not a problem at all.” I copied her actions, laying one of the white napkins across my lap.

She placed two small strainers over the teacups, dabbing a small pile of herbs on top, and pouring water from the teapot over them. Steam billowed up, filling my nose with a fragrance resembling something along the lines of raspberries and oranges rose up.

“So.” Madame Lebois removed the strainers and moved one of the cups towards me. “I must confess, you are one of the more peculiar hires I have had.”

“In what way?” I picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. After working a long hot day, I didn’t expect the tea to be so relieving.

“For one, you do not complain as the others did, and you work well with your hands. You mentioned you helped your Aunt before. I suppose you were not always a mercenary?”

Technically true, though I didn’t know if “soldier from a different world” would have made for polite talk.

“I worked on my Aunt’s shop. Mostly… a bit of gardening and a bit of farming. It was sort of the thing that would create things like the… tea herbs you see there. We sold them to people for the purpose of making poultices, potions, perfumes, those sorts of things.”

“Interesting… I can see how such skilled work would be very lucrative.” She paused taking a sip of tea. “Might I ask what drove you to be a mercenary?”

“Honestly…” That was a hard one to explain, even back on Azeroth. Being here only added further complications.

“Adventure I suppose. I grew up around stories, such as I am sure most boys did. Wanted to make a name for myself, all those things. Now? Now, I’m not so sure. I guess I took this up because I’m tired of it all, and it seemed familiar.”

“But could you not simply do your work here?”

“To be honest, I’m pretty far from home, and most of the plants I work with don’t exactly grow here.”

That last part was an honest truth. I didn’t see any peaceblooms, silverleaves, earthroots, briarthorns, or any number of plants around Denerim. If I did, I probably very well would have done so.

Our conversation drifted to my home. I answered questions, in the most general way possible. I told her of the sleepy bowl of land known as Northshire valley, cupped against the mountains to the North. I told her about the rivers, of clear streams, and the changing colors of the forest. Green in summer to gold in fall to white in winter, and finally bursting into as many colors as a rainbow in Spring. I told her about the grape farms, and the wine festivals held twice yearly.

“Interesting… ,” she said. “And to think I thought you were a native at first glance. It turns out that you are a foreigner like me.”

“Like you.” I took another sip. “Although, I’m not sure if I want to stay much longer. I’m looking to get back home as soon as possible.”

She nodded, looking wistfully out the window. It didn’t seem like she was looking at the building across from us, but to something beyond.

“Well,” I said, trying to fill in the silence. “You on the other hand seemed to be doing quite well for yourself here. On the contrary there isn’t much here for me.”

“That is true… though I have been thinking of leaving for home more and more frequently. On the other hand, it is hard to uproot my life twice.”

“Twice?”

She nodded. “I came here with my husband. He was part of the Orlesian garrison under King Meghren. I am shamed a bit to admit that we arrived here due to myself. My husband didn’t want to leave, but I was young and wanted to see a bit of the world. Experience a bit of adventure, as you just described.”

I nodded along. I didn’t say anything, and could infer from the absence of her husband, the sour relations between the two people, and a supposed war, nothing good came out of it. 

“Denerim has been pleasant,” she said. “but I believe it may soon be time to depart.”

“What makes you say that?”

She smiled, but instead of cheer, I saw sorrow on her face. “Too many memories. Or homesickness. You’ll have to forgive me, for I have little to describe Orlais, as you described your own home, but it is home nonetheless.”

“That’s… understandable.”

“There is a large order for the landsmeet ball. Afterwards, I am thinking of -“

There was a sudden sound of metal clashing against wood. The two of us turned our heads in the direction of the noise. In the corner of the room, little Louis was standing next to where I had neatly stacked my weapons and armor. Well, had neatly stacked. Everything was now in a pile on the ground, and Louis was looking at us with my newly acquired warhammer below his feet.

“Louis!” Madame Lebois stood up, and walked to her son. The boy looked down with a frown.

Madame Lebois breathed in as if to begin chiding her child then let out a sigh. Instead she picked him up with her two hands.

“Always getting yourself into trouble…” She pinched one of his cheeks. “I think it is time for you to get ready for bed.”

“Do you need help cleaning up?” I asked.

“No no! Do not worry.” She waved her hand. “You probably have a long way to go. Thank you again for your help.”

***

The setting sun cast a red hue on everything. The street, all the wooden buildings, and even the water streaming down the river. There was a knocking noise with each step, from the shield and warhammer tied to my back. As far as I knew, I was the only person walking along this street. Everyone else was probably preparing to bed down.

I used one hand to pinch my nose shut from the smell of the rank river. The other held a basket of bread. I had two baskets, but left one a couple turns ago. The street-dwellers could use it more than I did.

All in all, it was a nice end to a productive day. 

When I reached the other side of the bridge, I recognized a familiar mop of red hair step across in the distant intersection. Before, I could open my mouth to say hello to Shianni, she had had vanished from sight.

I didn’t think she noticed me. Or maybe she did? She did seem upset the last time we met. She probably had her own concerns, life was hard on a city elf, at least from what I knew.

That probably would have been the end of it, and I was about to turn toward another road when I noticed two figures follow behind her.

At first, I thought they were guards, but they weren’t wearing the green tabards of the city watch. They weren’t carrying the spears or halberds either, and it looked like they were trying to move unnoticed, which didn’t make sense.

I got the feeling something was wrong, and turned toward their direction.

By the time I reached the intersection, they were nowhere in sight. However, there were a set of muddy bootprints leading to the right, and into an alleyway between two buildings. Shianni had probably disappeared into one of those city shortcuts that she was familiar with. But if those men were after her…

I huffed the breadbasket around my arms and followed the bootprints. The way ahead curved and twisted with the contours of the houses. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about getting lost, because someone there was a shriek up ahead followed by a sudden silence it was muffled.

I trudged through, and popped out to a small empty space at the intersection of several buildings. There were three separate alleys that split, and a little past one was two men holding a figure covered in a bag. Whatever was inside it was struggling to be free.

“You there!” I drew my sword with my free hand, setting the point in their direction. “Stop!”

The men stopped. It was hard seeing what they wore under the shadow of the buildings but their build was the same as the ones earlier. They turned, and there was something familiar about their faces. Like I had seen them before.

I only got a brief glance because I charged after them. In that moment, they tossed the struggling mass on the ground and made off in the other direction. Without that burden, and with all the extra weight from the goods I had, they gained ground and disappeared before I could reach them.

I stopped, right in front of the bag. It would be a fruitless chase.

Instead I sheathed my sword, set the bread basket aside, and kneeled to free Shianni. I tried to lift her upright, but her struggling was making it impossible. I could hear muffled screams through the bag.

“Hold still!” I tried getting a grip on the knot of the rope bindings. “It’s me!”

She responded by struggling harder. I grit down, pulled apart the rope binds, and thrust the cover off.

She flopped out. Bruises covered her neck and arms where the men had grabbed her. Her hair was frizzled and her eyes and face were swollen with tears. She was shaking, and her arms swung blindly. I grabbed both her arms into a vice-grip before she hurt herself.

“It’s me!” I grabbed both her arms into a vice-grip looked her in the eyes. “Look it’s me.”

Realization set into her face. I carefully undid the gag around her mouth. I was going to let go of her arms, intent on giving her some distance to get her bearings straight. However, within a second, she had me wrapped in an embrace.

And then she started to bawl.

It was an unpleasant admission that I had an unwanted amount of experience dealing with these types of issues. Out of the five members of my old patrol group, I was the unfortunate go-to person whenever we dealt with situations with civilian wounded. It made sense. Priests fit the bill for the occasion and as a paladin I was close enough. Theory however, doesn’t always translate into practice, and I still remember my botched attempts at providing emotional support. Much to the amusement of everyone else.

Years later, and it also turns out that experience, doesn’t translate to expertise, because I still didn’t know how to handle emotional grief.

My mind was split three ways. One side giving comfort, the other ruminating on the awkwardness of the whole situation, and the last was paranoid of any threats in the area.

In any case, I went with the first and held her tight.

“It’s okay.” I rubbed her back, hoping it would ease her nerves. “It’s okay.”

As we were tangled up, I was still very aware that we were only asking for trouble by staying here. The men had departed, but I didn’t know if they were gone for good or returning with more. We had to leave.

Crying turned to sniffles, at which point I pulled away. If her face was a mess before, it certainly was now. The sight of it, like all the ones before, tugged at my heartstrings. 

“Listen,” I said. “You’ve gone through a lot. Let’s get you home. I don’t know where we need to go though, so you’ll need to lead us. Okay? I’ll be right with you.”

She nodded and I gently helped her up.

I picked up my belongings and walked by her as she led us through the labyrinth. She leaned against me; her arm wrapped around mine. A part of me thought it was self-serving to indulge in the emotion given what she had just gone through, but I couldn’t help but a feel a bit… good.

She was silent the entire time we stepped through the labyrinth. Her head bent down. I was thinking of offering more words of comfort. Some memorized verse from the Libram of Justice came to mind. I ultimately decided to keep my mouth shut.

We could finally hear sounds of movement and people ahead, and came out in the middle of a semi-busy street. Traffic was light, and our arrival drew a few eyes before the people went on their merry way.

“Shianni!”

A young man dressed in a green tunic and pants weaved through the traffic through us. On glance look, at his pointed ears and his angular face, it was an elf.

She let go of my arm and took a small step forward. “Soris…I”

“Gods…Where were you?” He took her hands, looking her up and down. His face one of concern. “What happened? Were you crying? Why…”

His head turned towards me, then back at her. I could immediately tell what he was thinking judging by the glare he gave me on his third look.

“Now look I- ,” I said.

“You wretched shem!” He shoved me with both hands. Bold attempt, but with the difference in our sizes and weight, all he wound up doing was lose his balance and fall on the cobblestone street with a meaty thunk.

“Ugh…” He massaged his bruised back. “Why you-“

“Soris!” Shianni rushed down to his aid, putting herself between him and I. “Don’t! He-He didn’t do this. He helped me.”

“Where did you get those bruises then?” He got up, pointed at the bruises on her arms and neck. “Look at yourself! I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to-”

Shianni’s voice regained a measure of resolve. “He didn’t do this. He helped me actually. I was- I was-.”

“She was attacked by a few men, in the alleyways” I said. “I was just there to stop it.”

Soris shook his head as he got back up. “Alleyways? Shianni what are you thinking! Aunt Adaia is going to lose her head, especially not after what Ka-“

“Stop,” she said, nudging Soris on the shoulder to turn. “Please. Let’s… Let’s get going.”

She looked back to me.

“Thank you.” Her lips quirked up, as if to smile but lacking the effort or strength to do so. “It looks like I’m in your debt once more.”

“She doesn’t owe you any- .” Shianni put a finger in front of Soris’ mouth to shut him up.

“Your welcome,” I said. “Stay safe.”

She nodded.

The two of them walked off. As they disappeared beyond sight and as I began my own trek back to the tavern, I recalled what it was about Shianni’s assaulters that seemed so familiar. They had the same haunted look, maybe to the point of being the same people, as the men who had excavated the entrance to the Deep Road’s a few days ago.

***

I stepped through the doors, escaping the noise of the street to join the noise and rabble of the tavern.

The moment I did, a young woman dressed in layered but wispy black cloth, sitting in my usual spot turned in my direction. One of her hands, balanced a dagger by its point. Kallian smirked and waved me over as I eased through crowds of people toward her direction.

She was the latest acquaintances I made in this world. We built up a degree of rapport after spending the last three days shuffling from possible site to possible site.

I had to admit, she was looking better than when we met a few days back. For one her hair didn’t have the oily gleam of several days’ worth of grime, and was tied back in the odd wild-looking bun that quite a few of the female elves had. Her clothes had undergone a washing, and so did her body at least judging from the improvement in smell.

She was also a very talkative. So much so that I hadn’t had a quiet dinner since. 

“Something wrong?” she asked. “You have a funny look on your face.”

“No, nothing.” I sat down, placing the basket on the table.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing, and you certainly did not bring nothing.” She leaned over to take a whiff out of what was in the basket. “Is that bread?”

“It is.” I moved the basket closer to my side of the table. “For me. Last I checked I wasn’t responsible for feeding you.”

“Aw you don’t have to put it that way.” She crossed her arms and smirked. I didn’t like that smirk. “Let me guess, you got it from that bakery down by the riverside. The one where all the rich folks live, run by the Orlesian?”

“How did you…”

“Oh, I’ve been following you around.” She winked, which didn’t assure me at all. “Not today of course, but a week ago.”

My first thought was why the Lorekeeper hadn’t caught her spying on me. Then when I realized the specifics of that day, it made sense. There were enough threatening attitudes in my direction that first day I was working at Madame Lebois.

“And I’m supposed to okay with that?” I said.

She started to laugh. “Easy, no need to be so strung up. Look… I know that was a bit uncalled for, but this was back when you still had my daggers.” She spun it in the air, catching it by the handle. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to just hand them over like that.”

“I would have. Maybe you would get different results if you asked politely versus kicking people in their nethers.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already apologized for that didn’t I?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to bring it up.”

“Please. Imagine you are a young lithe female elf such as myself who wakes up half naked strapped to a bed with a man standing over you. What would you do in that position?”

She had a point, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I crossed my arms, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. “Lithe female elf?”

“Aw.” She looked me in the eye and frowned. Cupping her hands over her heart. “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“Seriously!”

“Alright,” I said, pushing the basket towards her. She reminded me of Milly. “And would some bread help mitigate that?”

“There you go again using big words. But yes, it would.” She reached for the basket, but I pulled it away from her hands at the last moment.

“Say please.”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you my mother now?”

“Say it. How old are you anyway in the first place?”

“Fine. Please,” she said in a drawn-out voice that dripped with sarcasm. “And I’m just reaching my 16th year.”

I tried to avoid letting my jaw drop at that revelation. 16? I knew elves aged a bit different here, but even in human terms that hardly registered as an adult.

I pushed the basket over to Kallian who began to work her ravenous appetite on the bread. I leaned back and shut my eyes, meditating on the day’s events. Wade’s armory, Madame Lebois’ bakery, the incident with Shianni.

I enjoyed talking with Wade. I enjoyed working at the bakery. Without making it too odd, I enjoyed being there for Shianni, and had an urge to investigate those men on my own. However, that was problem. I was getting too attached to this place. Too much for my own good.

The Lorekeeper didn’t say anything but I could almost sense his agreement.


End file.
